Dominance
by the morrighan
Summary: Constructing the hierarchy of relationships both old and new leads to interesting developments.
1. Chapter 1

Dominance

White.

The light was pure, bright. Too bright, shining hotly into her eyes. A ball of whiteness that obliterated every other color. Every other sensation except the odd tingling of her bare foot. Moira O'Meara flinched, expecting pain. She pulled away, trying to scramble in the bed but was tangled in the sheets. "No...no...John...no..." she muttered, lost in a woozy, heavy state. Somewhere between slumber and intoxication. She fought, trying to surface. Her foot was prodded again. "No...I said no...no..." she muttered.

"There's nothing," Carson Beckett sighed, gloved fingers carefully running over the livid scars on Moira's bare foot. "It must have been a severe cramp, amplified by the hallucinogenic properties of the laudanum. I'll need to give her a muscle relaxant once she's clear."

"Clear?" John Sheppard stood near the bed. Arms folded across his chest, staring down at her. Expression unreadable. Revealing none of the turmoil he felt inside. Showing none of the concern flooding him.

"Yes." Carson rounded on John. "Do you have any idea how much was injected?"

"No. Maybe a, a full syringe..." He helplessly shrugged. Almost cowered under the doctor's blazing blue gaze.

"Good God, John! What are you trying to do to her? Make her a drug-addled–"

"No! I wasn't–"

"How could you allow this to happen?" Carson fumed, his Scottish accent becoming thicker as his anger breeched his calm exterior. "How could you let any quack give her drugs? Do you have any idea what that laudanum is doing, was doing to her? It's a wonder she hasn't crashed or gone into cardiac arrest or–"

"It wasn't his fault." Both men looked over as Moira struggled to sit. She eyed them wearily. Blinked against the bright lights.

"Moira, love, you need to rest," Carson's voice was soft, gentle.

"No." She waved his hand away. "It wasn't his fault, Carson. He wasn't himself. His mind was affected...oh...did you give him something for his headache?"

"Moira, you," John began, at once relieved and suddenly awkward.

"Don't touch me!" she flared as John made to take her hand. He drew back, frowned.

"Is she still coming down from–"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" she snapped. She sighed, ran a hand through her messy hair. She reached out to take his arm. "John..."

John glanced at Carson, who was watching, a stern expression on his face. John sat on the edge of the bed. "Moira, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let that croaker give you–"

She kissed him suddenly. A passionate, searing kiss. He pulled her into his arms, lengthening the kiss, deepening the motion of their mouths, their tongues. Forgetting there was an audience. Forgetting everything in that moment. It seemed to go on forever until Carson discreetly cleared his throat. "Oh! I..." Moira blushed, pushed John away from her. "What are you doing to me, John? Don't you ever listen?" She scrambled out of the bed.

"Moira, love, you need to rest–"

"No, Carson, I'm going to my room."

"Moira, you need to stay here," Carson tried again, but she pulled her shoe onto her bare, scarred foot.

"No!" She noticed her wet, dirty clothes. Noticed John's. Hastily she stood. "Just leave me alone! Just leave me alone!" She pushed past Carson, walking with a slight limp.

"Moira! You can't just up and leave my infirmary!"

"I'll talk to her, doc," John offered, as puzzled as the other man. "We're both exhausted and have these damn headaches."

"You? What the bloody hell did you do to her, John?"

"Me? Nothing! Nothing!" he snapped, moved to follow Moira. He strode down the hallways, caught sight of her entering her room. "Moira!" He sprinted but the door slid shut as he reached it. He banged his fist on it. "Moira?" He banged on it again as a surge of anger filled him. "Moira!" he harshly called.

The door opened. She glared at him. "What? What? What the fuck do you want, John?" she challenged. Brown eyes full of anger. Or passion.

John couldn't tell which. Didn't care. He grabbed her into his arms, into a searing kiss. He stepped into the room, forcing her backwards. He shut the door with an quick wave of his hand as his mouth took complete possession of hers. His hands slid down to her rear. To grasp. To squeeze. To suddenly lift her.

Moira broke the kiss to gasp as he lifted her, turned to push her against the wall. Her arms slid up to his neck and she kissed him, wrapping her legs around him as he pushed, pushed. Kissing her deeply now, shoving his body against hers in a simulation of sex. "John...John..." she managed to whisper, feeling his arousal, the hardness prodding, poking as she became aroused, wet. "Oh John, John, oh John," she whispered in his ear, teasing as he groaned, grunted.

John kissed her, carried her to the bed. She unwrapped her legs to stand, sliding down his body but he pushed her onto the mattress. Followed, shoving her legs apart to move over her. Kiss after kiss. Hands caressing, pulling. Prying. Yanking at her clothes, at his.

Moira shifted, clawing at his jacket, his shirt as he tore at hers. Yanking the zipper down on her pants. Thrusting his hand in to grope, to pull at the panties. To feel the sodden material.

"Wait, wait, wait," she warned breathlessly, shoving him to the side. She sat but he was already tearing off his jacket, kicking off his shoes. Every line of his body tense, impatient.

"Moira. My Moira...get out of those fucking clothes," he said low, voice husky with a surging, surging need.

Instead she moved to stand. Moved to him as he stood. Her fingers played up along his torso, his chest. She yanked off his shirt, ran her hand down to the front of his pants. Felt the hard, hard shaft straining, yearning. "John, can't you keep it in your pants?"

"Shut up, Moira," he said mildly, yanking off her jacket. He pulled off her shirt and ripped the bra from her.

Moira heard the fabric splitting but it only spurred her to unbutton, unzip his pants. She yanked them down, hands grabbing him, squeezing hard as he groaned. Pain and pleasure colliding. "Is this what you want, sweetie? Tell me, did your hat-check girl go down on you?"

"Not like you will, baby," he retorted, pushing her back to fall onto the bed. He yanked her pants and panties off together. Moira scooted, scooted up the bed but he followed, removing his shorts with a quick tug. He kissed her. Almost savagely ran his mouth down her throat to her breasts where he teased, sucked the hard nipples.

Moira gasped, arched, hands in his hair. Pulling hard as he sucked harder. His hand ran down between her legs to rub, rub, test her readiness as his own arousal throbbed, throbbed. "John! John!" she whimpered softly, writhing as he slid up to her mouth. Abruptly plunged inside her. Inarticulate moans, whimpers issued from her as he thrust, thrust, groaning quietly. Demanding relief, release, anger turning to passion.

"Moira, my Moira," he growled into her ear, keeping a steady momentum. Helpless to stop the overriding, inexplicable need to have her. To take her. To make her his all over again. Thrust after thrust, grunting quietly. Groaning her name.

Moira clung, clawed his back with her nails. As hungry, as inexplicably avid as he was. Spreading her legs wide, lifting to give him every access. Moving with him as the bed rocked, rocked. Rocked against the wall repeatedly. "John! Oh John, oh John!" she whispered hotly, feeling the pleasure spiral, spiral. The orgasm coming, coming. A tidal wave about to take her.

"Moira, Moira, oh fuck, fuck!" he intoned low, increasing momentum as the sexual interplay took over. Faster. Harder. Deeper as he thrust, thrust. The bed rocking wildly. Things flew off the table again. Something smashed into pieces but it only turned him on more. Faster. Harder.

She moaned. "John! Oh John, John, oh John!" Her hot whisper ended as a cry. The orgasm slamming, slamming. Pleasure escalating, brutal as he wouldn't stop moving, moving along her, in her, against her.

"Moira! Oh Moira, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he intoned low but groaned loudly as the spasms took him, pleasure rushing, rushing to the release. Her nails clawed his back again as he thrust, thrust, finally slowing. Slowing and breathing deeply. The pleasure spilling over him in waves.

Moira relaxed her hold as he slowed, slowed. Their bodies pressed together. Sticky. Sweaty. She guided his mouth to hers, kissed him repeatedly as he calmed. He stopped and fell upon her. A soft moan escaping his lips. Moira breathed deeply. Stroked his back. "Good God, John...you do like it rough, don't you?" she teased. Astonished and amused.

He smiled, caressing a breast, lifted to slide out of her. Shifted some of his weight off her. "Damn, Moira, I don't know what the hell that was. But I know you'll be all upset over it later. Like before..." He mused, but didn't care at the moment. Sated.

She shifted beneath him, trying to close her legs. "John...no wonder, sweetie! I think you broke my vase."

"Your what?" He looked at her, stared, then eyed the empty table near the bed. "Oh. Your vase. Got it. Sorry, baby, you–"

"No, you're not!" She saw the gleam of pride, amusement. She pushed. "Get off!"

He grinned. "I already did, baby."

"Shut up!" He laughed, rolled onto his back. Wiped his sweaty brow. "Ah, Moira...that was fucking fantastic! Your–"

"I need to shower! Look at us! Ugh!" She slid off the bed, went into the bathroom.

He laughed again, closed his eyes. "Don't be upset, Moira. We were both wet from the rain. Drenched. Sodden." He smiled. "And you like it rough sometimes too, baby." He heard the water pounding in the shower. Imagined her under it. Felt a stirring. "Damn..." he muttered, pleased and impressed.

"John? Aren't you coming?" Moira called coyly.

He smiled. "Moira, I am so coming!" He got off the bed, entered the bathroom. Paused to see her naked silhouette in the water. Watched her arch her back to wash her hair. "You know what will happen, baby. If I join you in there."

"I wouldn't invite you if I didn't want you, sweetie," she countered. Peeked out. Smirked. "Too late anyway, I see." She laughed, ducked back behind the curtain.

He scowled, but stepped in behind her. "My turn. Ah...that feels good!" He closed his eyes, let the hot water pound him, cleanse him. He smiled, feeling her hands on him. Lathering his chest, his back. Run along his shaft. "Baby."

"Shut up," she scolded as he opened his eyes. Gazed upon her wet body, dripping hair. She kissed him. Sliding her wet body along his. "Rinse off." She stepped out of the shower.

He quickly did so, stepped out to see her drying herself with a towel. Wet hair dripping down her bare back. Her hands moving the towel all over her skin, her body. Brisk, efficient movements yet he found the sight arousing, sexy. He grabbed one, hastily wiped his body but she turned, smiled. Stared at him. "What?"

Moira's loving gaze took in the water sparkling in his messy dark brown hair. Drops sliding down his sideburns, along his stubbly jaw. Down his neck to his broad shoulders. Glistening in his dark, coarse chest hair. Down his waist where he held the towel, concealing himself as he eyed her. Down his long legs to his bare feet. "Let me. Please." She gently took the towel to rub along his skin. Gentle. Slow.

He smiled, kissing her. Taking her towel to do the same. Sliding it over her breasts, then between her legs. Gently stroking. Teasing. Except the towel was gone and now it was his hand, his knuckles rubbing, rubbing to make her whimper, gasp.

She squirmed, dropping the towel. "John!"

He kissed her, drew her back to the bed. Moved over her. "I can't resist you when you are wet, baby. Hmm...nice and slow this time?" he wooed.

"Yes, John...make love to me," she agreed, gushing. Pulling him closer. Kissing him, sucking on his lower lip. Her body yielding to his, melting under his renewed attentions. "Oh! John!"

"What?" he asked, lifting his mouth from a breast as his hand stroked her inner thigh.

She stared. "I still hate you. We need to talk about what you did in–" she began, voice solemn.

"I hate you too, baby," he agreed. "You need a fucking therapist."

"John! I'm serious! You–"

"Or a serious fucking, I'm not sure which," he teased, oblivious to her objection.

"John! You..oh...oh God..." she murmured as he slid down her body, intent obvious as his mouth traveled a familiar path.


	2. Chapter 2

Dominance2

John woke hours later. He opened his eyes. Moira was sprawled on top of him, naked. He smiled. Stroked her back, but sighed. Knew the inevitable blame would come. The inevitable discussion of the rough sex, the amazing sex on that planet. He gently nudged her. "Moira? Moira!"

She muttered, "Shut up, John." She snuggled.

"Moira, it's morning."

"Not again, John. Strawberries," she muttered sleepily.

He smiled. "No...I...now? No, I mean I have to get up."

Moira sighed, slipped off him, turned away onto her side. She pulled the covers over her, snuggling in the blankets. "Strawberries," she repeated. Their safe word.

He smiled, kissed her softly. Stroked her arm. "Fine, Moira. Strawberries."

* * *

John sat in the cafeteria, eating a hearty breakfast. Thoughts flying over several things at once.

"So how is my patient?" Carson asked, joining him.

John shrugged. "Okay, I guess. That headache still comes and goes. Could I get more–"

"Not you! Moira," Carson clarified.

"Oh." John smiled, resumed eating. "She's fast asleep."

"Good." Carson debated. "John, what happened out there? What did you do to her, besides the laudanum?"

"What? I didn't do anything, Carson! The laudanum was an unfortunate mistake, but as I explained I wasn't myself," John defended, irritated.

"Yes, yes, but I'm not talking about that. What did you do to her, John? Why does she hate you?" Carson asked pointedly, a frown on his face.

John sighed, set down his coffee cup. "She doesn't hate me, Carson. That's Moira-speak for, um, um, something private. She'll corner me later and we'll take about it, I'm sure," he grumbled. Was half tempted to say exactly what he had done, had given Moira the fuck of her life, the double orgasm that had set her to weeping heights of ecstasy, but he refrained.

"It? What did you to her?" Carson persisted. Suspicious.

John's gaze narrowed. "I didn't do anything to her, Carson. I would never hurt her. Never. It's a private thing between us, all right? Frankly, it's nobody's business."

"Is that so, colonel?" Carson challenged, unconvinced. "Maybe I'll just ask Moira about it, shall I? And see what she has to say about all this."

"Go right ahead," John encouraged. "She won't say a damn thing because it is private. Personal." John stood, appetite vanishing. "That's all I have to say on the matter. Excuse me."

* * *

Moira woke, rolled over in the bed, reaching. Sighing happily. "John? John, that was wonderful! John?" She opened her eyes, sat to view the empty room. Frowned. Saw her clothes still scattered all over the floor. Saw the ripped bra. Smiled. Quickly she showered, dressed. Hastened to the cafeteria. Ravenous she gathered food and found a table. Began to eat with quick, large bites. Thoughts flitting, emotions rushing. She absently rubbed at her arm where the puncture mark itched.

"Moira."

She smiled. "Carson, please." She indicated the empty seat across from her. "I feel much better now. Thank you. That, that laudanum trip was...it was horrible!"

"I can imagine, love. How's the head?"

"A slight headache." She touched her forehead. A small bandage covered the cut.

"And the foot?"

"A little sore," she admitted, "but that was weird. The strong cramps, I mean. All of a sudden. They were so painful!"

"Hmm. Anything else?" He studied her expression. "Look, Moira, if something happened on that planet, when you were alone with John you can tell me."

"I don't understand," she said, puzzled. Colored suddenly as the sexual memories blossomed.

"You can tell me anything, Moira. You said you hated him," Carson gently reminded.

"Oh. That. I..." she hesitated. Hedged. "I was hopped up on opium. I probably said all kinds of crazy things."

"John said it was your way of saying something private."

"You asked John?" She sighed. "We...um...need to discuss a few, a few things, is all. Private things." She eyed the table. Almost tempted to tell him that John had given her such sexual pleasure she thought she was going to die from it all, that no man had ever brought her in such a fashion, repeatedly, but she remained silent.

"Sexual?" Carson asked, as if reading her thoughts.

Moira nearly choked on the water she had been drinking. She set the glass down. "Carson! It's private! Okay? John would never hurt me. Never. He never has! I don't hate him. I just say that when I...when I...look, it's nothing!" She stood. "It's between us, between John and myself, all right? We'll get it sorted."

"I just want to be sure you are all right, love," Carson soothed.

"I'm fine. Fine! Geez, John was right! It was easier in that nineteen twenties portal to be...anyway, I have to go. Do something. Somewhere." Carson shook his head, puzzled, concerned. Watched her leave, noting a slight limp to her gait.

* * *

"You seriously want to go back?" Elizabeth Weir quirked an eyebrow. Unconvinced.

"Yes." John sat in the chair opposite her. Her desk a solid barrier between them. His foot was tapping impatiently on the floor. "That portal alone is worth investigating, Elizabeth. The rate of their technological advances is unlike anything we've seen out here, and the fact that it closely resembles Earth circa nineteen twenty-three is remarkable! Now that the Ancient tech has been deactivated it should be safe."

"Should be?"

"It's a risk, I know," he admitted with a shrug, "but we're forewarned now. McKay's been itching to get at that machine. And more importantly we may be able to capture some of Ford's men. Finally learn his location and bring him back."

There was a silence. John stared hard at the desk. Elizabeth considered. Knew this to be a sore subject. "Don't you think Ford's men would have evacuated the premises by now?"

"Possibly. Probably. It's true the site has been compromised, but I can't see them giving up all that modern tech. The weapons. For all we know the portal's closed again. But we need to be sure. Anything useful cold be relevant to the galaxy, to our fight against the Wraith. I'll take two squads of marines, and McKay." He paused. Knew the hard sell was coming. "And Moira."

"Moira? Why? Is she recovered enough to–"

"Yes. She'll be wanting to go back to study her thylacines. Another mystery to be solved. We need to find out all we can from the locals."

"I don't know, John. What if you get trapped in there again?"

"I won't. I won't even go in this time. This is important, Elizabeth. An untouched world. Untouched by the Wraith, and mimicking our own culture. We have to know more." He leaned forward in the chair. Earnest. "This is the best lead we have had on Ford in months, and I won't allow it to be wasted."

"Fair enough," Elizabeth agreed, nodding. "You're right, John. But the thylacines?" A hint of amusement twinkled in her eyes.

John tried not to squirm in the chair. "Just as important, albeit in a different way. At the very least it may prove that the Ancients were on Earth a lot more recently than we've ever been led to believe."

"Did Moira put you up to this?"

"No. She doesn't know. Yet." He stood. "I'll assemble the teams. We'll leave in an hour."

* * *

Moira couldn't put it off any longer. She left her room, roamed the halls. Checked the conference room. Weir's office. Was headed for the Jumper bay when a squad of marines passed, walking in strict unison. She stepped aside, watched them pass. Turned to see John heading for the transporter. "John!" she called. "John, wait!" She hurried to the transporter as he looked up, waited for her. She darted in next to him, waited until he closed the door. Suddenly awkward they made the quick trip in silence. As they exited she said at last, "John, we need to talk."

"You need to prep, Moira."

"Prep?" She suddenly noted the TAC vest he wore over his black t-shirt. "Are you leaving?"

"We are," he corrected. "We're going back."

"What?" Moira followed him. "John, you can't go back!"

"Don't you want to study your thylacines?" he countered, entering the armory.

"Well, yes, of course! I just, I just figured you would refuse."

He turned to her suddenly, halting her before she crashed into him. "After last night?" he teased. Smiled. "You can have anything you want, baby."

"John," she said tersely, "I'm serious. We need to talk."

"No." His gaze flitted over her green shirt, dark pants. "I don't want to get into this now, Moira. All right? I don't have time to soothe you over your sexual hang-ups. We have to go on a fact-finding mission and that takes priority."

"Hang-ups?" She frowned. "We need to discuss this now, sweetie. Whether you like it or not! Damn it, John, Carson thinks you did something to me!"

"And whose fault is that? Honestly, Moira, I don't understand you! I didn't make you do anything. I didn't do anything you didn't want, or need, or enjoy...you really, really enjoyed everything we did. Every single pleasurable act. And if I shocked you by giving you multiple, multiple orgasms one right after the other, even a double than you–"

"John!" she objected, coloring at his blatant assessment. "It's not that! It's...we need to talk!"

"No. You need a shrink, apparently, because you have some serious sexual issues. Blaming me, accusing me when all I did was bring you repeatedly."

"John, shut up! You–"

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her. "What do you want from me, Moira? It's not my fault your few, few men never brought you the way I have, and will again."

She shoved free. "You arrogant bas–"

He smiled. "That's right, baby. Blame me all you want. You want it as much as I do. Maybe even more, is that it?" His brilliant green eyes sparkled.

"Shut up, John! I hate–"

"Of course you do." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her again. "You hate the fact I can make you so helpless, so vulnerable, so lustful, is that it?" he asked into her ear. Holding her close. His warm breath tickling her skin. "You hate you want me so much, so very much. That you want sex, baby, sex with me as much as I want sex with you. Does my Moira feel naughty at wanting me to fuck her over and over until she comes so hard she screams my name?"

Moira blushed. She shoved free of him, nearly fell. "I hate you, John! I hate–"

"Get over it, baby. You need to get over this bizarre guilt. I'm tired of it. Can't you just enjoy what we do? Am I going too fast for you, O'Meara? Shall I slow it down for you, baby?"

She stared at him, unsettled. Appalled. Rattled by his acute observations. "Maybe...maybe we should slow it down, Sheppard. You need to stop. Stop pushing, pushing–"

"I like pushing, pushing. You like it too, Moira. I never heard you say otherwise. Before or during. Only afterwards."

"You...I...you..." she stammered, but he touched her arm. Kissed her gently. "John?"

"We're going to that planet. Prep. We leave in..." he glanced at his watch, "forty minutes. You are with me. We can finish this...melodrama later."

"Melodrama? Damn it, John, you don't understand! I suppose none of your lots some women ever reacted like this when you–"

"No, they didn't. And I told you," he warned, raising his forefinger to her, "don't mention that again. It has no relevance to us."

She glared, but caught his hand. Stroked. Slid his finger into her mouth slowly. Twirled her tongue around it. He moaned, reacting. She drew it out slowly, gaze locked with his. "Do you hate me now, John? I can use those same tactics on you. Do I make you do things? Want things? Too bad, sweetie." She shoved his hand aside, turned and sauntered away from him. Hips swaying deliberately.

John stared after her. Finger wet. Eyes on her hair falling down her back. On her rear in the snug pants. He smiled. "Prep in thirty-five, baby! That's an order!" he called after her.

"Yes, colonel. Still hate you!" she snapped over her shoulder.

"Back at you, baby!" he called, annoyed. Amused. Aroused. Cursing inwardly he looked around, trying to remember why he entered the room in the first place.


	3. Chapter 3

Dominance3

Moira entered the Jumper bay. Saw John standing on a ramp to one of the ships, appearing impatient. Scowling. She deliberately slowed, strolled towards him. "Colonel? Am I late?" she asked sweetly.

"You need to be disciplined, Moira. In."

She brushed past him, entered the Jumper. Saw the empty seats. "John? Where are–"

"It's just you and me, Moira. Strap that pert little ass in a seat." John closed the hatch, moved to the pilot's seat. Puzzled Moira took the co-pilot's chair, set her pack onto the floor. John tapped his earpiece. "Jumper two, you have a go. Jumper one is finally..." he paused, stretching out the word as he glanced at her, "ready to go."

"Yes, sir," Evan Lorne's voice acknowledged. "Orders?"

"Once in cloak. Head straight to the structure and investigate. I want every level checked and rechecked. If you find any hostiles radio me. When you reach the portal do not engage. Radio me. Understood? Major, even the villagers are to be treated as hostiles. Sheppard out." He tapped the earpiece. Guided the ship to full power. To rise steadily.

Moira was watching him. Looked out the viewport as they entered the 'Gate room. The wormhole shimmered like silver liquid. "Where are we going?"

"To look for your thylacines." He glanced at her. "Did you want to go back to nineteen twenties land?"

"No."

He smiled. Once through the Stargate the two ships parted. John activated the HUD. "All right, here's where you saw them, so we'll look near there and proceed on foot. By the way, how is your foot?"

"Fine."

"If you start to have trouble let me know." He smoothly flew the Jumper over the land. Past the mostly barren trees. Across the short grasses littered heavily with fallen leaves. A blanket of orange and yellow swirling wildly as the ship created gusts of wind in its passing. He smoothly landed the Jumper. Powered down. Stood. "Let's go. Moira?"

She silently rose and grabbed her pack. Moved to the hatch. She stepped out, turned to watch him close it, lock it. Access the remote to render the ship invisible. Moira turned and started walking across the sun-filled plain. Leaves crunched under her shoes.

John followed, P90 swung casually in his arms but his gaze was everywhere. On the plain. On the distant line of shadowed trees. On Moira moving stealthily, silently. Pausing to lift binoculars from time to time. The wind blew her ponytail. Scattered strands of hair lifted, fell.

He caught up to her, strolled beside her. "Moira. Now's as good a time as any."

"What?"

"To talk. You always want to talk, so...we have absolute privacy here."

"Privacy. Privacy," she mused. "Does it upset you that much, John? The, the lack of privacy back on Atlantis? So much so that you wanted to stay in nineteen twenties land, even before you were affected by that Ancient tech?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Look at things now. Carson thinks I made you do something you didn't want. Did I?"

"No," she softly answered. "But you–"

"For once we could be ourselves, Moira. In that land. As exuberant, as passionate, as loud as we wanted to be. As we needed to be."

"Is it because of that, that one marine who may have heard, um, overheard us that one, one time?" she asked awkwardly. He gently laughed. She stopped, met his warm gaze. "John?"

"My Moira. I hate to tell you this but I'm certain we've been overheard several times. Several." It was almost a boast.

"You...really?" she asked, brown eyes wide. Sincere. "I...oh no. Oh no..."

"See? This is what I want to avoid, sweetheart. I don't want you upset, or restrained. I want your passion, Moira. I want your loving exuberance. I want you as loud as you want and need to be. It only gets me off even more the louder you are."

"John! You shouldn't–"

"So, yeah, I wanted to stay in that land, at least for a little while. We were so free, Moira! So uninhibited! And the sex...the sex was amazing! Wasn't it?"

"Yes, I...you..." She colored again, resumed walking. "I don't want to talk about this now! We can discuss everything later, in Atlantis."

"Whatever you wish, baby. But we have total, well, near total privacy here." He turned casually, scanning behind them. Scanning the tree line. The hills gently rising to their right. "Hey, weren't you going to lay down some ground rules, baby? Lay them on me," he teased, catching up to her again.

She frowned. "That's one of them, John. Stop, just stop calling me baby. After nineteen twenties land I am sick of it!"

"Really?" he asked, surprised. Considered. "Yeah, I guess I did lay it on too thickly back there. But it's hard for me not to say it, Moira. Especially when we're intimate."

She sighed. "I know...just...only say it during sex, John. All right? No other time."

"Okay. Fair enough, ba–, er Moira. Does foreplay count? I really need it then."

She sighed again. "Fine, only during foreplay and sex, sweetie," she conceded, stopping again to scan the terrain.

"And it's still our code, baby. Sweetie. I can't change that now. Military rules."

"Whatever, John," she sighed. "Can we talk about something else now?"

He smirked. "That was it? One rule?"

"No, but I'm not discussing this here! Geez, John! All of a sudden you want to talk?"

"About sex? Hell yes, ba–,er, Moira."

"All right, then." She lowered the binoculars, eyed him as he was scanning the area again. Expression serious. "What are you really doing here?"

"Huh?" he asked, meeting her gaze.

She frowned. "Come on, John! If there was even a remote chance that one of Ford's men was still on the planet, still in that structure you would be down there with your men. And you wouldn't have brought me to this planet. And if the portal is open you'll be the first to lead a search in there. And don't tell me you really are helping me search for thylacines because I know you don't care one way or the other."

"I care," he objected, but added, "just not as much as you." He smiled. "I forgot how smart you are, baby...er, honey. I was distracted by that pert little ass and the mind-blowing sex we keep having."

"Hilarious, John. So?"

"Let's keep moving." He headed up an incline. She followed.

"John? What are you looking for?"

"Thylacines, Moira. Is that one?" He pointed.

She joined him in a crouch at the top of the ridge. Peered with her binoculars. "Yes! Yes! I think so...it's far away...blending in with the leaves."

"See? I am helping," he offered, looking not at the animal but all around them. The hill was covered in leaves, nearly buried by the thick, dead foliage. Crunching noisily underfoot. The wind whistled in the bare branches. An eerie sound, whipping the naked boughs to rub against each other.

"Geez, John, I guess you are helping. I forgot how observant you are. I was too distracted by how incredibly gorgeous you are and the astounding sex we keep having."

He laughed. "Hilarious, Moira."

"Look! Two! Near the hills over there! Oh John, they are so beautiful! We can't take them back to Earth. If we did try to reseed them, tried to establish a viable breeding population they would probably be hunted to extinction again. Or solely confined in zoos. At least here they are free, and unmolested."

John's gaze moved from the animals to her as she lowered the binoculars. He watched the wind play with her hair. Watched the green shirt hug the curves of her breasts. "That's a rather grim view of humanity, Moira. But I have to agree with you." His gaze wandered to her rear as she leaned, the pants outlining every curve, every swell. But he met her gaze as she stood.

"I saw that, flyboy," she accused. He merely smiled. "Let's try to get closer. The tree line."

"Ah. We'll move in a flanking perimeter sweep, downwind so they can't detect us."

She smiled, shook her head as he walked with her. "Yes, colonel, that's what I said. To the right, towards the trees." They crossed from the sunlight into the shadows. And back again. Leaves crunching, swirling around them. "Are you going to answer my question?"

John was silent. The wind blew wildly around them. Grasses gave way to stubbly ferns. Leaves rose around them in columns, tiny tornadoes that collapsed to the ground. He surreptitiously checked the bio-scanner, took a step back to be behind Moira. He turned, checking the area they had left. He lifted the binoculars to scan. The heavy foliage on the ground turned everything to oranges and yellows. Heaps of leaves gathered by the wind blocked his view. "It's just a...we'll call it a suspicion. Probably nothing," he finally answered.

"Great," Moira commented. "The last time you had one of those we landed right in it. Care to enlighten me?" She stared at his broad shoulders, his back. The TAC vest snug on his torso. The pants snug on his rear. The double straps of his holster encircling his thigh.

John turned to her, lowering the binoculars. Gave her a winning smile. "And I wanted to spend some time with you. Just the two of us. Far from everyone else," he added smoothly.

Moira smirked, unconvinced. "Yeah, right, John. Nice try." He was standing half in shadow, half in sunlight. She watched him tuck the binoculars into his TAC vest. He looked around, gaze serious, intent. The stripling pattern fell across his strong, lean body. Across the P90 he held. The winds blew his hair. Moira smiled, irresistibly drawn. Desire flared in her. Her lower body tightened, tensed. She turned, deliberately leaned over as she pretended to adjust her shoe.

John stared, gaze riveted on the snug black pants hugging her rear. As she straightened and looked at him he met her gaze. Gave her a slow, slow smile. Licked his lips. His intense gaze a smouldering, sensual appraisal that made her weak at the knees. She inwardly sighed with longing, as he licked his lips again. Slowly.

"Moira, copy?"

Startled by the voice in her ear she nearly jumped, but replied a little breathlessly, "Evan? Copy? Have you found something?" She shrugged at John's inquiring look. He advanced towards her, brows furrowed in curiosity. Annoyance.

"No, I just wanted to be sure. Okey-dokey?"

Moira's brown eyes widened at the code words. "Okey-dokey, Evan," she replied, giving the all clear signal.

John mouthed the words at her, a question. He gestured, open-handed, a smile tugging his lips. But his gaze narrowed in sudden suspicion.

"All right, then."

"Evan," she turned away, embarrassed, although John could still hear every word as he tapped his own earpiece, "everything's fine. We are still searching for thylacines. In fact we spotted a pair. They could be a breeding pair and if we can track them to their lair we could–"

"I just wanted to be sure you were okay, Moira. It's odd...that's all. The colonel going off with you all alone like that, instead of–"

"I'm sure he had his reasons, Evan. And actually he is helping me track the thylacines. Neither of us can risk going back through the portal because of the–"

"Major, excuse me, are you reporting to Moira now?" John asked acerbically. "As far as I can tell there are no stripes on her uniform." His arms slid round her, around her waist as he stood behind her. A slight gasp of surprise escaped her lips.

"No, sir. I was just checking–"

"The only thing you need to be checking is the structure, floor by floor, room by room. Have you encountered anything yet?"

"No, sir...no one. There is a lot of debris, hampering our progress to the lower levels."

"Don't take any unnecessary risks, major. If you also happen to find someone or something of interest radio me. You know, the guy in charge? Maintain position and hold your twenty until I order otherwise. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Sheppard out. O'Meara out." He clicked off the earpiece, then hers. Let his fingers caress down her throat. "Moira, he certainly is solicitous for your welfare, isn't he? And what was that? Okey-dokey? A code for safety?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. I'll have a word with him."

"As will I. Solicitous, Moira. I can be very solicitous too. Remember? You said it was funny," he spoke into her ear, kissed down her throat. Body moving suggestively against hers. "Me being so solicitous of your welfare with my cock inside you. Deep, deep inside you."

She murmured, a rush of physical need inundating her as he pulled her against him. His hands slid down, down to fondle between her legs. Stroking. He kissed her throat. "Oh John..." she whispered, heart racing.

"Do you feel it, Moira?" he teased. "My cock inside you. Or rather the absence of it? The absence of me, rubbing, stroking, filling you completely. Finding that exact spot to bring you over and over." He kissed her throat, nibbled at her earlobe as his hand ruthlessly stroked. Stroked, sliding his knuckles along her cleft. Faster, faster until she squirmed against him. "Do you want my cock hard inside you, baby?" he wooed, already becoming erect.

Moira lost herself as he was bringing her through her clothes. She moaned, gasped, nearly falling into him. A whimper caught in her throat and she whirled. Kissed him passionately. Her mouth caught his eagerly. Yielding to the pure desire he engendered. Her fingers ran through his hair, down the sides of his face, his stubble, guiding his mouth to stay locked with hers. "Oh John, oh John, John," she teased into his ear. Circled it the way he liked. Gently nibbled.

He moaned, withdrew with an effort. He freed her. Held her at arm's length. Desire raged in his body. The tension escalating. His reactions coming fast, faster. "Hilarious, Moira."

She stared. Wide-eyed. Rosy. Inviting. "No? Is that an order, colonel?"

He smiled, but scowled. "Moira, you know what will happen. I want sex."

"Really, John?" She tilted her head. "Hmm...you want sex? Thanks for telling me. I had no idea you wanted that...I just thought your pants were tenting for sheer happiness." She glanced down at his crotch and smirked. The obvious bulge.

"Hilarious, Moira," he scolded. "I'm serious. Afterwards you will blame me and deride our pleasure. I don't have time for another melodrama, so no."

"No melodrama, sweetie. I promise."

He raised a brow. "Promise?"

She smiled, moved to kiss him again. Sliding her hands along his arms. "Yes, John. Oh yes, John, yes, yes! You've turned me on, sweetie, just by what you said. That one look."

"What I said? Oh...yeah." He grinned. "Geez, Moira, I'll have to remember that. Say it. I want to hear you say it, baby."

"Say what? Oh, how it was funny, you being so solicitous for my welfare?" she teased, knowing full well what he wanted.

"And?" he prompted. Tempted. Impatient. Annoyed.

"And?" she teased. Loving to tease him. To annoy him as he frowned. "Oh!" She kissed him lightly, said softly into his ear, "While your cock was still inside me. Deep, deep inside me, John, so hard, so stiff, and so large, so long..." she wooed, ran her tongue down his throat.

"Fuck," he swore mildly, reacting vividly. Abruptly hard, painfully hard. He kissed her deeply, tongue thrusting into her mouth. He shoved her body into his. But he freed her again. Stepped away from her. "No, damn it. Now behave, Moira...even if you promise me in the heat of passion you'll blame me later. You always do. Besides, we are on a fucking mission!" His words were strained, breath coming harshly.

She gently laughed. "Are we, sweetie? On a fucking mission? Then what's the problem?" He tried not to laugh. "Oh sweetie, I won't blame you. Cross my heart." She ran her fingers over her breasts, over the already hard nipples poking the shirt. She stepped to him, ran her hand down to his crotch. Grabbed. "Ooh, you'd better stand down then, colonel, or you will be cited for insubordination."

John let the laugh escape his lips, could not hold it back. He moaned at her touch, her encircling fingers. But batted her hand away from him. He took a step away from her, enjoying the game as much as she was. "No. Stay over there, baby. And that is a direct order." He sighed, turning away from her. "What the hell has gotten into me?" he muttered, shaking his head. "I'm serious, Moira. We can resume this afterwards."


	4. Chapter 4

Dominance4

Moira smiled. John was all business now, checking the bio-scanner. Surveying the landscape, half turned from her as his gaze took in the autumnal terrain, the swirling leaves. The wind blowing harshly against him. She reached up to pull off her ponytail holder. Her hair fell free, blew around her in long, brown cascading strands. "Okay, colonel. As ordered. Damn...I really should have brought a spare."

He glanced at her. Glanced again to see her shifting her stance. Meaning all to obvious. Her hair a glorious rise and fall dancing with the wind. "Moira," he warned, tensing.

"Seriously, John...they are drenched, and so tight," she teased with a smile. She chewed on her lower lip a moment. "Colonel, could you render military aid? A full frontal military penetration of your selected target?"

He grinned. "Damn it, Moira, one phrase and you are this horny? No," he held up his hand, "keep that pert little ass over there, baby!"

She pouted. "Yes, colonel. Can I least, at the very least have a–"

"No." He had to turn away again as he groaned, aroused. Erection throbbing, body tensing. Finding the sight of her alluring. "Shit," he muttered, unable to control it. Unwilling to control it as he contemplated how good, how satisfying it would be to take her now. When she was more than ready.

"Jo-hn," she said in a sing-song voice. "Sweetie?"

"Colonel Sheppard, copy?"

He tapped his earpiece, glad for the distraction. Also pissed by it. "Copy!" he barked, but calmed his voice. His frustration. "Report."

"Colonel Sheppard," Moira teased, "I need your help removing some sodden ordnance."

"Moira, hush!" he hissed, covering the comm. "Report!" he repeated.

"Sir, levels two and three are clear. No hostiles. No bodies. Not much equipment. It looks like whoever evacuated took nearly everything with them. And what they didn't take they trashed. There's not much down here."

"Colonel, there's so much down here," Moira teased, listening as she neared.

He covered the earpiece, turned. "Moira! Hush!" But he stared. She was swinging her pants in her hand, panties still on.

"Sorry, colonel, but they were so tight, so tight...my ordnance is uncomfortable. As you can see. Won't you position it for me, sweetie?"

John licked his lips, entranced. Gaze lowering to her crotch. To the damp material. Gaze all but piercing the lacy white panties. Her bare thighs, legs.

"Colonel, what are your orders?"

"Yes, colonel, what are you orders?" she echoed. She backed away from him, into the shadows.

Leaves muffling her footsteps.

John smiled. Decided. Unable to ignore the want, the need. The desire inflaming him. Her. "Maintain position." He had to turn away again, unable to concentrate as she turned, leaned over to give him an enticing view. The panties rose up a little. He suppressed a moan. "I want every level searched, lieutenant. I'll radio you in an...hour. Sheppard out." He whirled, hearing her soft laughter. "Moira?" He didn't see her.

"An hour, John? My, you are optimistic," she teased.

John clicked off the earpiece, rapidly advanced to find her. Moira stood in the shadows. Tall, barren trees surrounded her. A nest of leaves was a tangle of orange and yellow. She stood, waiting, smiling at him. Such love in her gaze it made him stop a moment. Drink it all in. He set down the P90. Removed his TAC vest. Removed his holster and sidearm. "I'll have you know, baby, this is against my better judgment."

She shrugged, stepping to him. "Sorry, sweetie. I guess we could wait..."

"Hell, no. Too late for that, baby. We passed the point of no return a while ago." He pulled her into his arms, kissed her. Hands sliding to grab, to squeeze her rear. She squealed as he lifted her, spun her round. He set her on the ground. "Assume the position, baby."

She laid on the pile of leaves wantonly, fingers toying at the band of her panties. Slipping them down, down, giving him a glimpse. She slid her shirt up, up, revealing her waist, the edge of her bra before letting the material cover her again. She shifted. "John."

He smiled, fumbling with the button on his pants. "Fuck it," he muttered.

She laughed. "Do I need to help you, sweetie? Colonel Sheppard's got his ordnance in a twist, I see." She moved to him, rising on her knees to push his hands away. John groaned, stared as she slowly unzipped his pants. Touched his shorts. Stroked. "Colonel, you are fully loaded." She laid back on the leaves.

He laughed. "Ready to deploy, baby. For full throttle." John couldn't get his pants and shorts off fast enough. He yanked them down, nearly tripping over his boots in his haste. Causing Moira to laugh again. He moved to her, almost fell but caught himself. Yanked down her panties. Kissed her deeply, hard, shoving her legs apart. Knowing she was ready he wasted no time and thrust inside her. Groaned loudly as the tightness, the wetness welcomed him. But she clenched her muscles, halting him.

"Not so fast, John! Make it last, make it last," she wooed, gasping, arching as he kissed down her throat. Began to move in a strong momentum. In and out. Moira writhed beneath him, moaning in concert with him. Whimpering as he teased, tormented, edging her ever closer, closer to the brink. Thrust after thrust. Leaves plumed around them, violently shifted, scattered by their passionate joining. "Oh John! Oh John, John!" she cried, voice rising in volume.

"No, I want you louder, Moira! I want your exuberance!" he urged, thrusting in an accelerating motion. She wrapped her legs around him, opening wide to encourage him. To take all of him. She pulled up to kiss him hard, deep. "Oh John! Oh God, God...oh John!"

"Moira! My Moira, that's it baby, that's it! Right fucking there, oh fuck!" he enthused, straining, pulsing in time to her. Faster now, cresting the waves of pleasure, release.

Moira found herself being pounded into the ground, nearly buried in the leaves as the foliage plumed wildly around them. Thrust after thrust, faster and harder. She cried out, moaned loudly, clutching, clinging to him. "John! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh John, John, John, John!" she repeated over and over, helpless as the orgasms slammed into her. The pleasure circling wildly as he rocked her.

"Moira! Oh Moira, Moira, Moira!" he growled, straining. "Bend your knees!" he ordered, voice harsh. Slowing a little as spasms began to initiate release.

Moira did so, rocking with him, moving. Found herself rushing to the brink again as he changed his positioning, his angle, all the while deftly plying her repeatedly. She gasped, squirmed as his hands slid under her, grabbing her rear to hoist her up a little. His fingers wandering, stroking as he kept thrusting, ruthlessly sliding to inundate her with raw pleasure. Moira's whole body tensed, arching. Whimpers and moans escaped her lips. Desperate, inarticulate sounds.

"Moira! So fucking sweet!" he groaned, voice strained as he moved even faster, harder. Pounding into her now, sheathing the whole hard length of him as if he would never stop.

A stuttering gasp broke from her lips as the climax escalated into almost painful pleasure. She was writhing violently beneath him, as if to get away but his grasp, his weight pinned her. His continued insertions trapped her. She cried out loudly, her hands clutching his arms, clawing. She cried out his name over and over, nearly convulsing with the throbbing pleasure, the intensity. Tears sparkled in her eyes.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck!" he groaned, grunting in almost primitive cadences as she clenched him tightly, squeezing him. Slick and hot. Nevertheless he pounded, pounded. Unable to stop. "Moira, my own Moira!" He tensed, throbbing, then burst in a rush of climax, of release at last. The sensations flooded his lower body. He shuddered, groaned loudly, ejaculating almost violently, finally achieving relief. The tightness easing. "Oh God...that was... Moira...Moira, let go...fuck, let go..." he croaked.

"John! Oh John, John, please, please!" she whispered. Reduced to a quivering sob her voice faded. She ran her hands under his shirt, fingers tangling in his chest hair, to slide around to his bare back. Ran her nails down hard.

"Moira, please... I need my cock back, I think," he muttered, slowing his movements as he softened, relaxed. "Strawberries," he whispered. She finally relaxed, released him. He fell upon her, breath ragged as he slid out of her. Her legs straightened as he freed her rear, moved to slide his hands up under her shirt, under the bra. Clasping a breast. Running his thumb over the hard, hard nipple.

"John...you..." Pleasure echoed vividly in her body. She tried to catch her breath, the sobs caught in her throat. She caressed his back. "Oh John..."

"You promised," he reminded her. "Damn, Moira, are you trying to kill me? I've never had a fucking orgasm like that! I thought it would never go down! The things you did...you...shit, I can't move right now. I can't even feel my cock right now. Baby, for all I know it broke off inside that sweet, sweet center."

"John," she scolded, tried to hit him but could only manage a gentle tap. "I think you want to kill me! You nearly gave me a double, sweetie! I thought I was going to die of excessive orgasms."

He smiled, kissed her throat. "Ah, baby...you came so deliciously hard."

"Don't ever do that again! I can't handle the, the intensity! At least, at least not in Atlantis."

"We'll find a deserted tower far from the–"

"No. They'll still hear me. Hear you." She slid her hands off his back. Pushed. "John!"

He shifted his weight, but lifted to kiss her. Kiss after kiss, gentle, loving. Until he ran his mouth across her rosy cheek to nibble her earlobe. "Moira," he whispered.

Moira murmured, moving under him. Hot. Sticky. Sweaty. His hand was still under her clothes, caressing her breast. "You were right, John."

"Of course I was, Moira." He kissed her again. Met her gaze. "About what?"

She smiled, touched his face. The stubble. The strong jaw line. "Privacy. About how we...we can be so exuberant here. So loud." He gently laughed. "I'm serious, John! You...the way we have sex, like this...I...I've never...we can't do this in Atlantis! Ever!"

"We'll find a way, baby. This is the best sex we've ever had. Hell, we keep topping ourselves. There are so many things I have yet to share with you, baby...things you've never even imagined, I bet. So, if I can ever get it up again we'll find a secure, secret location to have exuberant sex."

"I'm sure you'll get it up eventually, sweetie...now move. Please."

He kissed her, rolled onto his back, freeing her breast. The wind cooled him. He wiped his sweaty brow, stretched languidly. Leaves crunched under him. He ran his hand past his waist.

She smirked, sitting. "Missing something, sweetie?"

He laughed. "Just checking, baby. Damn." He watched her look around for her panties. She pulled down her shirt but it wasn't long enough to cover her. She leaned forward to grab her pants. "Finest pert little ass in the whole fucking galaxy."

"Shut up, John," she mildly scolded. Covered herself with her pants, still searching. She gathered her messy hair, ran her fingers through it. Lifted it into a ponytail. Secured it.

"Damn. I wish you had taken off your shirt for that," he noted, watching the rise of her arms, her breasts pushing against the shirt.

"No complete nudity," she chided. "In a bed, sweetie." She frowned. "Where the hell are my panties?"

He sat, ran his hand up her bare thigh. "You really don't want them, do you, baby? They are soaking wet."

She looked at him. He was twirling the panties around his forefinger, handsome face full of merriment, love. Satisfaction. "Hilarious, John!" She tried to snatch them but he moved them out of her reach, still spinning them in the air. "John! Put that," she pointed to his lap, "thing away and give me my panties!"

He laughed, tapped his earpiece, became serious. "Major Lorne, copy? No," he said to her, drew his hand back as she lunged again.

"John! Give me my fucking panties!"

"Colonel, copy," said Evan's voice. Moira blushed, afraid she had been overheard.

John smirked, trying not to laugh. He cleared his throat. "Report, major." He kept twirling the material on his finger, keeping it out of her reach.

"Sir, there is nothing here. We can't get to the portal. Looks like they set some sort of incendiary device and leveled it. There's not much here to salvage, I'm afraid. Orders?"

"Fall back to the Jumpers. We'll meet up with you. Oh, major, do I need to have O'Meara repeat my orders or is my authority enough for you?"

"John," she chastised.

"Your word is fine, sir. Lorne out."

John tapped the earpiece. "No." He lifted the panties higher, out of her reach.

"John Sheppard! Will you please put your ordnance away and give me my panties! What is it with you and my underwear?"

He smiled. "I've told you, Moira, it's not your panties. It's what's inside them, baby, that sweet, sweet center...and when you are so aroused you become utterly–"

She kissed him, drowning his teasing. She pushed him onto his back, snatching her panties from his hand at last. She quickly stood, turned away to wriggle into them. "Honestly, sweetie, you need a fucking therapist to get over this kinky fascination with my underwear."

He laughed, pulled up his shorts, his pants. Zipped and buttoned as she pulled on her pants. "Or a fantastic fucking. Wait, I had that already." He licked his lips, suddenly thirsty as he watched her brush off the clinging leaves. "Hey, Moira, I've got new code names for us. How about cock and cu–"

"Don't you dare, colonel, or you'll not be using that ordnance ever again!" she warned.

"Okay, baby...how about, let's see , ah, I know...how about penis and pussy?"

"John! You are such a soldier! A crude, insensitive, loutish and boorish son of a–"

He caught her, spun her round into a kiss. He replied, "Yeah, I am. I'm also the guy you just fucked to wild abandon, so go figure, baby. Now, please tell me you have a bottle of water in that pack of yours."

She sighed, moved free to rifle through it. "Maybe." She watched as he strapped on his holster, securing it to his thigh. Pulled on his TAC vest, securing it as well. Hefted the P90 in his hands. "I have one. But I'm not sharing it with you, sweetie. Not after that." She swung the pack over her shoulder, opened the bottle and drank.

He smiled. "You will. I can't believe this, Moira. I've never done anything quite like this."

"Like what, John? Had sex? Pissed off a woman with your crude talk?"

"Hilarious, Moira. No, I mean, well, yes, I mean have sex on a mission of all times. Let's move out, through those trees. And Moira, please."

She drank some water, slurping noisily. "Ah, it's so good, John." But she smiled and handed him the bottle. "I'm so tired now."

He downed the liquid in greedy gulps. Wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He handed her the empty bottle. "I'm exhausted, Moira. I wish we were in your bed right now. I'd be out like a light."

"So what else is new?" she quipped. "John, where are we going? The Jumper's that way." She pointed behind them.

"You'll see. Stay close."


	5. Chapter 5

Dominance5

John moved stealthily through the trees. His boots crunching the leaves underfoot. His gaze probing the distances, the trees encroaching closer, closer the deeper they ventured. He listened, heard the natural sounds of birds, small animals. Could hear Moira following on his heels. He paused, raised a hand. Looked back at her suddenly to see her stare. "What?"

Moira smiled. She had been amused at the quick change from the passionate lover to the ever-efficient colonel. "You. I was admiring your proficiency."

He smiled. "Yeah, I'd say I was quite proficient, baby."

"Not that! I meant...oh never mind."

"My proficiency made you have how many mind-blowing orgasms in a row? You nearly killed me with that sweet, tight little–"

"John! Behave!"

"Ah, baby, it's the sweetest little–"

"Unless you are going to sing you can't call me baby anymore. Remember the rule?" she reminded him sternly.

He frowned. Disappointed. Turned away from her. He led her through the trees. "Fine." He looked round, sang under his breath, "_'Ooh, baby I love your way, wanna be with you night and day.'"_ He stopped, held up his hand again. Searching the terrain. "Better?" he asked quietly. He lifted the binoculars to view the valley below them. Except there was no valley. He stared.

"I've found it, Moira! Found what I was looking for and it's bigger than I thought. Moira?" He looked back at her.

Moira was staring at him. Gaze full of love, of passion. Brown eyes sparkling. "Oh John..."

"Now don't get all girly on me, honey. Come and look at this."

She moved to him, caught his arm. Kissed him for a long moment. "Oh John, I can't help but get all girly when you sing. Oh John," she sighed dreamily kissed him again. "Found what?"

"What? Oh." He steered her towards the ridge. "Nothing."

"You found nothing? Good job, colonel,"she noted. She stared as he caressed her shoulders. "What is that?" The valley was visible, but it appeared dark. Like a severe depression in the landscape. A blot without any trees, grasses. Or life.

"What isn't it, actually. A void. That's the nineteen twenties land, Moira. You see, we weren't on another planet. We we're here the entire time. It's a sanctuary, created by the Ancients and concealed by them from the Wraith." He tapped his earpiece. "McKay, copy?"

"Sheppard. There's nothing on the scans to indicate a–"

"Exactly. Nothing. I've found it."

"Come again?"

"The sanctuary. There's one here too, that's where the portal leads. Or led. Moira and I are at the base of it. A complete void, Rodney. At least three times the size of the other one."

"But with no time dilation field? How big? Three times the size of–"

"Yes. Lorne, copy? Take a Jumper and Rodney and fly him to our coordinates. He'll want readings of this thing if he can get them. Rodney, get what you can, and try to pinpoint any ZPMs. Moira and I will scout around the perimeter, maybe find another ingress point or power source. Lorne, do I need to have Moira issue the orders?"

"No, sir. We're on our way. Lorne out."

"John," Moira complained as he ended the transmission, "will you leave it alone? I will talk to Evan and get it sorted."

"As will I, Moira. And I will not leave it alone. This way." He led her down the ridge. "It pisses me off, I mean what does he think? That I'm going to do something to you? Does he think I'm going to hurt you? I'd never hurt you."

"I know, John, he knows too."

"What gets me is he seems to think you should be protected from me. From me!"

"It's not like that, John."

"It is, Moira! Don't you worry, I'll take care of it in my own way," he grumbled.

"John!" She grabbed his arm, stopping him. "I'll talk to him, all right? It's my fault anyway. Blame me if you need to blame someone. Because of the things I said that he doesn't understand. I can fix this."

"No." He resumed his stride, pulling her along. "We can't get too close. For all I know we could get sucked into that place again. Well, I could, I mean. And you. Like before, at that other one and that fucking hurt like hell, being sucked into that field..." he rambled angrily.

"John, slow down!" Moira was stumbling after him, shoes sliding on the slick leaves, as the incline sloped downwards suddenly. "Don't be angry. Please! I can fix this. You don't need to go all alpha male, sweetie, okay?"

He turned to her. So suddenly she bumped into him, drew back but he pulled her close. Kissed her. "I thought you liked me all alpha male," he teased, but grew serious. "I'm sick of these fucking interruptions and interjections and objections and interference. And it's always when we are at our happiest, haven't you noticed?"

"You mean when we've reached some spectacular sexual pinnacle," she corrected.

He smiled. "Like I said, when we are at our happiest." He kissed her again. "Moira," he said low.

"You've got to be kidding me, John."

"No. The way you were looking at me. You better dial down that look, Moira before we have company."

She sighed, kissed him. "I'm sorry, John. I can't switch as fast as you."

"What?"

"You can switch from lover to colonel like that." She snapped her fingers.

"Oh. Well, you need to learn that skill. Didn't you walk into a wall once?"

"Almost. Seriously, I will talk to Evan. Leave it to me."

"Seriously, Moira, I'm not letting the men see you like this. You look like you have been ravished and thoroughly enjoyed it."

She smiled. "I have been and I did, sweetie. By a very amorous colonel. John, I can't wait to get into a hot shower, have a hot meal and get into bed. You?"

"Sign me up for all of that, ba–er, Moira. All three. Especially the hot shower part." He led her closer to the odd bubble of darkness.

"Um, John, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, I mean, we shouldn't have indulged like that on a mission. I don't know what came over me, I mean–"

"Lust," he supplied, guiding her carefully.

"Well, okay, I guess, but still I shouldn't have persuaded you to–"

"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed amiably. "And I shouldn't have, but I am so very, very glad that you did. Ecstatic, actually. And you need never apologize for sex, baby, er, sweetheart. Wait, is this foreplay?"

She laughed. "No, sweetie. Besides, you said you couldn't get it up."

"Yet. I said I couldn't get it up yet," he corrected. Halted. He raised his binoculars, crouching, motioned for her to do the same. "Crap. Just as I thought...you clever son of a bitch," he muttered. "Just like I trained him."

"What is it?" she asked in a whisper to match his soft voice. She peered past the odd bubble to see a strange fluctuation in the field. A motion. She frowned. "You knew."

"Suspected," he corrected quietly. Tapped his earpiece. "Lorne, copy. Get closer to–"

"John! The readings are astronomical!" Rodney's excited voice broke over the radio. "Or rather they were before the equipment failed but if there is even one ZPM there we could–"

"Rodney! We've got company. Possibly. Lorne, wait for us in the clearing near my Jumper. Maintain radio silence unless engaged. Sheppard out." He checked the scanner. "Life signs aren't clear. Could be the energy from that thing interfering."

"Is it Ford?" she whispered, pressing closer to him as she stared at the fluctuation.

"Doubtful. But we can't be sure. This could be our best chance to nab him, or at least a man of his to pinpoint their position, their base."

She touched his arm. "You still want to bring him home," she realized. "The shepherd retrieving the lost lamb."

He glanced at her, nodded. Looked back at the distance. "Yeah. I always thought...I always thought I could find him, bring him home. It's my responsibility. He's a good kid. He was, once. Still is, I think...despite what's happened to him. But I wouldn't trust him either. Huh. That's odd. I don't see anything now. I haven't seen a single person go in or out."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, but it's not good. Something's...off." He stood, pulling her to her feet as well. "Let's go. Lead us out the way we came, up that ridge. Stick close to the trees. I've got your six. Quiet, now. Quickly."

"I bet you do," she muttered, but proceeded to climb the ridge again.

John smiled despite himself. Watching as she moved fast, ponytail swinging to the motion of her hips. He found himself having to quicken his own stride to keep up with her. He was about to make a smart ass comment when she stumbled, slowed. Stumbled again. "Moira?" He was instantly at her side, hand on her elbow.

"My foot...it's cramping. Not too bad, I need, I need to sit down." She winced, limping as he guided her to an enormous tree that had fallen onto its side. She eased down, stretched out her leg and turned her foot, trying to relieve the tense muscles.

"Is it bad?" John stood close, eying their surroundings. "Do you want me to carry you? Can you put any weight on it at all? Should I send for Carson?"

She smiled. "Wow...you are solicitous for my welfare, even when you cock isn't deep, deep inside me." He smiled. "I just need to rest for a minute. It's not too bad."

"Don't you worry, baby. I am very solicitous for your welfare. Even when my cock isn't deep, deep inside you. Although I prefer it that way."

She shook her head. "Hilarious, John. Maybe I should rub it."

"Ah, baby, I 'd be more than happy if you did," he offered, pretending to undo his pants.

"John!" She laughed. "My foot! Not that!"

"Are you sure?" he teased. "Crap." He sat next to her. "We'll give it five, all right?"

"Your cock?"

"Your foot!" He kissed her. "My cock needs more than five, believe me." He watched her draw her foot up to her, rubbing the shoe carefully. He glanced round. The wind had dropped. The air was cool, still. Silence. John moved to his feet in a swift motion. Noting the odd silence. Even the birds had stopped singing. He looked round, gaze narrowing.

"John?"

"I heard something, or rather I didn't. No, stay right there." He motioned for her to remain. He scanned the trees. The shadows. Listening. Looking. He tapped his earpiece. "Lorne, copy."

"Sir? We've just landed near your Jumper. I–"

"Hold position, major. Give me a scan of the entire area."

Moira looked round, noting the odd silence as well. She felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. She heard a rustling in the leaves to her right. Stared, saw nothing. "Maybe it's just an animal," she suggested. Glanced at John but he was looking straight ahead, gun raised. She rubbed her foot, pressing her fingers to her shoe. She looked back at him. He was gesturing with his hand, moving it in a circle. She stared, wondered. "What? I don't know your fancy military oh oh...I get it!"she realized as he glanced at her, gave her an encouraging expression. "Okay, John, okay," she continued as he stepped quietly round her, then was gone. "You know, I don't know why my foot keeps cramping. Carson said there is nothing wrong with it and as it only cramps some of the time it must be due to muscle strain, but sometimes it cramps in the middle of the night which makes no sense as I'm at rest then, well, I would be at rest unless you're with me and then we rest afterwards, of course," she rambled, as he had wanted her to do. She paused, hearing a twig snap. Leaves crunch. "I wonder if there are other animals here that are extinct back on...at home, I mean, besides the thylacines. It would be extraordinary if we were to find another species like that and we..." She froze, hearing a loud snap.

John stealthily circled round, keeping to the shadows, the darkness. Crouching, P90 at the ready. He smiled, hearing Moira's voice go on and on, used it to keep her position in his head as he circled farther around the trees. And behind whatever was blocking their path. Despite being unable to see it he knew it was there. He paused as his earpiece clicked.

"Sir, I'm detecting life signs...four altogether including Moira and yourself, but they are not distinct all the time. Orders?"

John double-clicked the comm, sending the all-quiet signal. He listened. Moira's voice had stopped. The vacancy was filled by a sudden wind, a gale force that nearly knocked him off his feet. That blew a wall of leaves to block his line of sight. He saw a blur out of the corner of his eye and whirled, firing his weapon on pure instinct. Diving for cover but something big swung at him, sent him flying off his feet and to the ground.

Moira struggled to her feet, hearing the gunfire. "John! John!" she called, backing up against the nearest tree. A blur to her right made her whirl, nearly fall as her foot cramped. Something emerged from the trees. She stared in surprise as a Wraith lunged towards her. "John!" she cried.

"Down!" he shouted, suddenly in the area, firing. She dove for cover. Something flew across her. Brushed her. Heavy cloth and claws. More gunfire split the air. Shouting. "Six o'clock down! Two more on the twenty! Go, go!" he shouted into the earpiece. "Moira!" Suddenly he was there, grabbing her arm to haul her to her feet. "Move!"

Moira broke into an awkward run. John followed on her heels, whirling to fire at the blurs of motion around them. Camouflaged by the whirlwinds of leaves in some mad parody of a monster movie that would have made him laugh if not for the severity of the situation. Of the very real threat to their lives. To Moira's as she stumbled.

"Sir! Two more at six, McKay's got one at eleven!" Evan warned.

"John!" Moira shouted. Swerving. Falling.

John fired at the Wraith that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Dove to cover her. "Damn it! Where are they all coming from?" He looked around as the wind dropped again. Leaves fell in piles. Gunfire sounded to their right. "Lorne! Lorne? Oh shit," John realized, looking up to see a familiar figure emerge from the trees. "Hey there, lieutenant. Want to join the party?"


	6. Chapter 6

Dominance6

"Ford?" Moira squeaked beneath John. She lifted her head to peer past his shoulder to see the former lieutenant and two men with him. Stared seeing he had both arms, although the reattached one had Wraith-like scales and was tightly bound at the shoulder. Aiden Ford's one black eye gleamed at her eerily. Scars ran down his face, marring his brown skin.

John moved slowly to his feet, taking Moira with him. Keeping her behind him as he eyed the younger man. "Ford. You–"

Aiden did not reply, but turned and fired his weapon. John did the same as a blurry motion resolved itself into a Wraith. Leaves swirled wildly. Bullets and lasers hit the target but the creature snarled, flew with the wind to disappear among the trees again.

"We need to run, Moira. Can you?" John asked over his shoulder, gaze moving back to Aiden and the two men with him.

"Yes, if you let me go. John..." An unspoken concern. Worry.

His free hand slid down to tighten on hers. To reassure. "Aiden, come with us, now," John urged, P90 pointed at him. He freed Moira's hand to fumble in his TAC vest pockets. "We can help you. We can–"

"I don't want your help, sir. Never did. Thanks to you that portal has been compromised as has our position here! You couldn't leave it alone, could you?" Aiden flared, gun pointed at John now. His men flanked him. "These aren't ordinary Wraith, Sheppard! We were devising a way to fight them when you intervened! You've ruined everything!"

"Sorry. But if we work together now we can–" John's words were cut off as a blur whirled towards them. Simultaneously the men fired, but more Wraith emerged. "Go!" John pushed Moira ahead of him, into a run. He fired, whirled, and lobbed a tiny device towards Aiden. It snagged on the hem of his ragged jacket. John turned, followed on Moira's heels. "Lorne! Six! McKay, hold!" he shouted. "Go, go!" he yelled, pushing Moira.

"Sheppard!" Aiden shouted, firing wildly now at his former colonel as the Wraith swarmed, dispersed. "Come back here! I need her!"

Hearing his words Moira ran all the faster, forcing herself past the pain lacing her foot, the fear racing in her heart as the blurs and wind and leaves all seemed to surround them, pursue them.

She spotted Evan firing to their right, the Jumpers in view but still far away from them. "Rodney! Disruption field!" she shouted.

"Go, go, go!" John urged, whirling and firing at things he could barely see. He was flung to one side and he fired, but instead of a Wraith he hit one of Aiden's men. "Shit." He rolled, jumped to his feet. Glanced to see Moira stumbling, falling. Scrambling to her feet and reaching the Jumper. A sound wave hit, a weird sensation that irritated his ears. He stared as the leaves fell to reveal several Wraith. No longer invisible. No longer blurs. "Oh fuck. Lorne, go!" He began to run backwards, firing his weapon. "Ford! Come with us! I'll clear the road! Ford!"

Moira fell on the ramp, rolled and sat to see Evan running to the second Jumper. Heard Rodney shouting. "John! John!" she called, pulling herself to her feet to stare at the empty landscape.

She stepped out of the ship. "John!" She gasped, stumbling backwards as Aiden stepped round the ship to her. "No, no!"

Aiden smiled. "You. With me, now. Let's–" He was suddenly hauled violently off the ramp. Shoved to the ground. Replaced by a Wraith who smiled and reached out to grab her.

Gunfire slammed into the creature, flinging it onto Moira. She fell backwards, cried out and shoved violently.

"Moira!" John was running up the ramp, grabbing the Wraith and wrestling it off her. He spun round, shoved it down the ramp, fired repeatedly but froze as Aiden came into view. The two men looked at each other. Guns pointed at each other again. "Come with me, lieutenant! We can fight the Wraith together. Come with me now and I promise you that!" He heard Moira moving behind him. A soft sound of pain, but he couldn't chance a look back at her.

"Sorry, sir. I don't trust you. I'm sure you can understand why."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist, lieutenant," John stated, finger on the trigger. "One way or another. Get in. Now."

Aiden's finger hovered on the trigger of his blaster. "Come with me now, Sheppard. Help me rebuild this site. We have valuable intel on the Wraith. Intel you will need! Come with me now..." He swung the gun to point at Moira. "Or I will shoot her."

John replied, "I thought you needed her." His tone was calm, cool. While he swiftly calculated the trajectory of Aiden's weapon, and if he could intercept it in time. He saw the tiny device he had thrown at the other man barely clinging to his jacket.

"It's your choice, sir. Come with me now and you have my word I won't pursue her. We could use your help, sir. And the intel...you need the intel. Atlantis needs the intel."

"John, no," Moira protested, moving to a seated position. The gun was sited on her chest. On her heart. "The transplant worked?" she asked, trying to distract Aiden.

"There have been some...complications," Aiden admitted, glancing at her. He caught John's nearly invisible movement and raised his gun to him again. "No, sir. Your choice. Help us, help yourselves with this intel...or throw it all away. For her." He pointed the gun at her again.

"John, don't listen to him! It's a trap! John, please!" Moira urged, clutching her foot as painful spasms made her tense, softly moan. "John, please..." she repeated softly.

"Sir! Darts! On the way!" Evan called. "Reynolds is pinned at the 'Gate!"

"Shit." John glanced at the sky to see the ships heading for them. Met Aiden's gaze. The half-smile on his face. "Not today, lieutenant. There'll be another time, Ford. You can count on it!" He slammed the hatch shut, tapped his earpiece as he turned to Moira. "Lorne, go, go! I'll cover your six, draw them away from the 'Gate. Return to Atlantis with Reynolds when you have the all-clear! Go!" He caught Moira's arms and gently drew her to her feet. "You okay?"

"John, John," Moira said, clutching his arm as he guided her to the co-pilot's chair. "You–"

"Easy, sweetheart. Here we go." He slid into the pilot's seat, powered the ship. Lifted and accelerated into the sky. "Two on our tail, damn it! Shielding!" Nevertheless the ship rolled with a hit. "We're taking a detour, Moira, so hold on! We can't cloak until we lose them."

The ship plummeted. Moira winced as the ground rushed up to greet them. Close. Closer. Then the ship veered and steadied at the last possible second. Reversed. A hit rocked the back. John fired. A dart rocked, rolled but the other circled round. "One down. Hang on, baby. We're going to flip."

"What?" she exclaimed. She closed her eyes as he accelerated, executed a complete 360 in mid-air. John fired at the dart below them. It exploded into pieces as he spun the ship round again.

"Damn, that was close! Moira?" He glanced at her, smiled. "We're fine, honey. You can open your eyes now."

Moira did so, met his gaze. "I hate roller coasters, John, I really do."

He shrugged. "Sorry. You missed some of my best flying. Here we go. Nice and easy. All ships return to Atlantis. The way is clear." He glanced at the screens.

"John...you, you're not thinking of going back, are you? After Ford?" she asked worriedly.

He licked his lips. Considering. Glanced to see her anxious expression, the pain on her face. He looked back at the equipment. "No. Let's go home."

* * *

"And you let him go?"

John shrugged, forcing down his own anger and regret. "Yeah. We were kind of busy at the time with the Wraith and the darts, so...I know, I know," he held up a hand before Elizabeth could chastise him further, "I should have gone after him and all but my priority was to get our people to safety first." He thought of Moira, pushed the thought away. "And I know that more than likely that tracking device will either fall off or not work, but we just might catch a break with that one. At the very least we will be able to locate a previous location for him." John inwardly cursed. That had sounded lame even to him.

"It's all right, John, I'm not disagreeing with your call," Elizabeth soothed, yet a frown lingered on her face. "It's just frustrating to have him nearly in your grasp and then to lose him. And you can be sure that Caldwell and the rest will not be as lenient as I have been."

"I know," he agreed grumpily. Stood. "I'll get McKay to set a wide scanning range for it, remote as it may be." He stomped out of Elizabeth's office, paused. Gestured. "Now."

Evan nodded, entered the conference room. Glanced behind him to see Moira climbing the stairs, an expression of consternation on her face. John entered the conference room, closed the door. Glared at his subordinate. "Major, I believe we need to have a few words in regards to Moira. How in the hell could you even think I'd–"

"John! John!" Moira knocked on the door. "John, open the door! I said I will talk to him! Not you! John!" She pounded. "John, I'll keep knocking until you open the door! John!" She hit it with her fist, changing tactics. "John, my foot is sore! Are you going to make me stand here all day? Open the door!" She pounded. "John! You know how loud I can be! Open the door, damn it!" Her fist flew right onto his chest as he opened the door. "Sorry! What the–"

"Moira, I told you I would handle this. Now get your pert little ass to medical," he said quietly, voice terse with annoyance. But amusement sparkled briefly in his green eyes. "And yes, I know how loud you can be, baby. The louder the better."

"Hilarious, John. Move."

"I'm warning you, Moira, you don't want to be here. It's going to get brutal."

"Brutal?" she asked, bewildered. "Move!" She shoved him aside and entered the room. John sighed, closed the door, turned. Moira moved to Evan as he stood. She sat on the table, hoisting herself up onto it to clear her feet off the floor. "Evan. I'm sorry."

"You should be apologizing to me," John sulked, standing at the end of the table.

Moira ignored him. "I gave you the wrong impression, and I'm sorry. Nothing's wrong. I said a lot of things I didn't mean. I was hopped up on opium and my foot was cramping terribly, so I said those...look," she tried again, "everything's fine...John...he just gets carried away and he..." she paused, lowered her voice suddenly very aware he was in the room with them. "John would never hurt me, never has...and I don't hate him. I just...when he...look," she tried a third time, staring down at her feet, "sometimes I, um...that is to say I overreact when he...that is to say when I...I've never and then he...look, it's a private thing between the two of us."

John smiled, amused at her awkwardness. Aroused at her flustered state. Annoyed she was placing the blame onto him yet again. "Just tell him the truth, Moira. Don't hedge. That you don't know how to react because it's so new, so startling, so utterly pleasurable. That I bring you to climax so often, so fast, so hard unlike any other man you don't know if it's right or if it's wrong. Only that you want it. Want me. And have to blame me for it."

Moira flushed at his bald assessment, staring hard at her shoes. Evan was staring at her, but glanced at John. Moira glanced at him too. John was still standing near the end of the table, hands on his hips, gaze serious. Irritated. But an arrogant glimmer flashed in his eyes as he met hers. A slight smirk was formed by his lips. Moira looked away, awkwardly stood.

"I'm sorry, Moira," John said, not sounding sorry at all. "I did warn you. Did I say anything that wasn't true? Isn't true?"

"No," she softly stated, eyes on her shoes.

"That's settled, then. Moira, would you please go and see Carson about your foot now?" John's tone was all conciliatory, gentle.

"Moira, I'm sorry, I never meant to–" Evan began, startled and appalled.

She glared at Evan, walked towards John. Not at all fooled by his tone, his manner. Could feel his anger, his annoyance. She left the room without looking at him, without saying a word.

"Sir? I...I..." Evan stammered.

"Satisfied, major?" John snapped, giving full vent to his anger. "Now back the hell off! And don't go after her! I'll take care of her, you got that? If you ever make me have to do this again I will ship your ass back to Earth! And if you ever imply that I might hurt her I will hurt you! Oh, and if you have fucked this up for me you will wish you were on another planet! No, in another galaxy!" John's furious voice was quiet, the anger radiating off his tense body. He turned, left.

John debated whether or not to go after Moira but instead strode to the botany department. Quelled the curious, amused looks by his icy, icy stare as he gathered a vase, filled it with roses. The romantic act incongruent with his horrible mood. He strode to his room, set the flowers down on the table.

Quickly he stripped, took a long, hot shower. Debated tiredly what to do. Alternately angry and amused. Riddled with guilt over having to leave without Aiden, without pursuing him. Blaming himself. Blaming Moira. His overriding concern for her and her pain diminishing his duties to protect his men, to pursue Aiden and bring him back by any means. The former lieutenant was a dangerous liability. More importantly he had been a friend, a trusted colleague.

He tilted his head back, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Thinking of Moira. The multiplicity of her conflicting reactions, emotions. The escalating passion, sex. Her love for him at times overwhelming, at other times a blanket to enfold him, ensnare him. Something to treasure. To protect. To keep close in his heart, knowing how rare a thing it was, this love for him. He sighed, cursed. Exhausted. Still angry, annoyed.

* * *

Moira was furious. She stomped to her room, ignoring the pain in her foot. Ignoring his request to go see Carson. She was furious with both men. She muttered to herself, stripping off her dirty clothes, throwing them onto the floor. She stood under the hot shower and cursed, cursed. Her face hot with indignation, embarrassment. Angered at Evan's concern. Mortified at John's stubborn, blatant words. Astounded at the amazing sex on the planet. The romance, the teasing. The singing. One moment she was so in love with him she couldn't see straight, the next so angered she wanted to throttle him. Pissed at his smug words, his attitude. Pissed he had aroused her, probably had aroused himself.

She sighed, stepped out and dried off with a towel. Raked a comb through her unruly, tangled hair. Wondered at her brazen boldness on that planet. Knew John's guilt and remorse over Ford ran much deeper than he would ever admit. Realized he would blame her for leaving him behind, for abandoning his former lieutenant yet again. She sighed, got dressed. Uncertain what to do. What to say to him, if anything.

* * *

John looked at himself in the mirror. He ran his fingers through his damp hair this way and that, styling the disordered strands. He stroked his jaw, decided not to shave just yet. Knew Moira liked the stubble. The feel of it against her soft, tender skin, lips, earlobes, nipples. He smoothed down the well-worn navy t-shirt, gray running pants. He slipped on casual shoes and grabbed the flowers on his way out of his room.

He stood outside her door, hesitating. Inevitably drawn to her room. To her bed. To her. Wanting her. Despite everything he wanted her. Wanted every mood, every complication she could throw at him. He smiled, shook his head. He sheepishly bowed his head as a woman passed, staring at the large bouquet he held. He knocked. Knocked again. "Moira? Moira, it's John," he needlessly identified. Felt like a fool. "Moira, please. At least let me in, okay?" He waved his hand over the panel. To his surprise it opened. He entered, closing it swiftly. Smiled.

Moira was asleep on the bed. Her damp hair straggled around her. She wore a faded green shirt, dark gray pants, dark socks. Her knees were bent, her rear sticking out as she lay on her side. John quietly set the flowers on the table. Eased himself onto the bed. Scooted close. Ran his hand down her back to her rear where he gently squeezed. "Moira?"

She stirred, moved a little. He scooted closer, ran light kisses down her cheek, throat. Spooned against her. He touched her hip, settling comfortably.

"Moira?" he asked again.

She muttered, caught his hand, shoving into him. Her rear hitting his crotch. She pulled his arm around her, as if he were a blanket. She fell back asleep.

John smiled, fingers moving along her shirt. Finding no bra. He closed his eyes, wearily settling as the comfort of the bed, the warmth of her body enfolded him.


	7. Chapter 7

Dominance7

Moira stirred. She shifted. Felt a warm, hard body beneath hers. She woke, startled. Found herself in the darkened room sprawled on top of John as he reclined on his back, asleep. One of his arms was loosely draped over her. She shifted again, lifted up to see his handsome face. Stared in admiring passion. She gently nudged him. "John?" She looked over at the table, stared. City lights gleamed on a new vase. Sparkled on the cut glass. It was full of roses, overflowing with the rich red blossoms. Taking a deep breath she could smell the rich scent from the bed.

Moira smiled. "Oh John." She lightly kissed him. Ran her kisses down his throat. She slid off him. Ran her hand down his chest to his waist. "Jo-hn," she teased into his ear. He smiled. She kissed him again, slipped her hand under the waistband of his pants, sliding the material down. Froze. "Oh! John...my, my, sweetie, you are optimistic, aren't you?" she teased, feeling no shorts. Only him. Naked under the pants.

"I believe in always being prepared, baby," John said, opening his eyes to meet her surprised gaze.

"You're awake," she observed, fingers stroking him up and down. Up and down.

"I am now," he commented.

"Thank you. The roses are beautiful. That's a very romantic gesture, sweetie."

"It's not a–" he began to protest.

"Or a gesture from a man who thinks he is in deep, deep shit," she caustically noted, making him smile. "I'm going to interpret it as the former whether you like it nor not."

"Okay, Moira. So...you, um, you're not mad?" he asked carefully. A moan escaped his lips as her fingers still played along the length of him. He began to react as her nails ran up and down. Up and down.

"Oh no, John, I am still mad. Pissed, in fact."

He stared. "At me?"

She smiled at his worried, perplexed expression. She kissed him. "No. Well, yes, a little. You and your fucking alpha male behavior, yes. Would I be stroking your cock if I was furious with you, sweetie?" she sweetly asked, fingers moving faster. Harder.

"Depends on what you're planning to do with it, actually," he wryly noted, groaned and shifted. He touched her side to slide his hand under the shirt. To glide up her skin to enclose a breast. "Ah, sweetheart...oh...you're mad at him. Good."

"Good?" Her fingers paused, closing on his increasingly stiff length. "How is that good, exactly? John? I know you are pissed at me over Ford and all that and I'm sorry but I couldn't let you run after him like that! Yes, I know," she confirmed to his surprised expression, "of course I know how you feel and won't tell me! And now you are pleased that Evan and I are at odds? That doesn't make any sense! And we will repair this despite whatever you want to happen or imagine to happen and–"

"Whoa! Moira, easy on the grip there, baby, or my ordnance will need serious repair."

"What? Oh...sorry..." She smirked, gentled her hold, unaware she had been squeezing, squeezing tightly. "Are you all right, John?"

He considered, shifting. "There's only one way to tell, Moira." He kissed her, drawing her mouth down to his. A long, lingering kiss full of promise, of passion. He slid his other hand under her shirt to enclose her other breast. Fondling, teasing as she slid partially onto his body.

Mouths still joined in kiss after kiss. Tongues playing, prying.

Moira sat, straddling him as she freed his cock. She moaned softly, feeling him becoming harder, harder beneath her moist pants and panties. She rocked a little on him. "Damn you, John Sheppard, the things you do to me..."

"With you, Moira O'Meara, with you. Here we go again," he commented. Confused and aroused. Her hair tangled around her, messy, provocative as she licked her lips, chewed her lower lip and softly moaned.

"With me but to me, John...the things you make me feel, make me want...make me do...I'm all tight and we haven't even done it yet."

He smiled. "Then maybe we better do it, baby. Moira, you are the most puzzling woman I have ever met."

"I'm serious, John...oh..." she moved on him. "Oh John, John, do you want me?"

"Isn't that obvious?" he teased, running his hands along her thighs.

She smiled, leaned down to kiss him passionately. Sat before he could grab her. "Do you want your cock inside me?"

He grinned. "I want my cock deep, deep inside you, baby. Shouldn't we–"

"Not yet." She took his hand, caressed. Kissed. Took his forefinger into her mouth to swirl, to suck as she gyrated on him.

John groaned, shifting under her. The double seduction tantalizing, enjoyable. He slid his free hand up her thigh, under her crotch as she moved. Felt her wetness. He stroked as she lifted.

A murmur escaped her lips as she still sucked his finger. She freed it to lean down, to kiss him. Unable, unwilling to stop the rushing, rushing sensations. John tangled his fingers in her hair, guiding her mouth to his again. Over and over. Each kiss deeper, longer, hungrier. They rolled. She was beneath him now but he sat, slid off her. She caught her breath as arousal flooded, tensed, strained. "John?" she asked. Ran her hand along his back, his thigh.

"Damn, Moira...are you sure? I mean, I mean after all that fucking melodrama?"

"I want you, John. Make love to me, John. Make love. No doubles. Okay?"

He smiled, met her gaze. "No doubles?"

"No."

"Okay, then." He pulled off his shirt, stood to remove his pants. "Whatever you want, baby. I didn't see this coming."

"Really, sweetie? Then why did you go commando?"

He sat, turned to see her moving to pull off her shirt. She reclined, wiggling to remove her pants, arching her back. Her fingers paused on her panties as she fell back, met his gaze. "I was hoping, baby. Just not expecting, that's all. How's your foot, by the way?"

She smirked. "My foot? You're not even close to looking at my foot, sweetie. It's not my foot you need to be concerned about, not at all."

He moved over her, kissing her, sliding his hand down to stroke against the damp material. To pull the panties down, down. "Oh? Really? Ah...I am very concerned about this. Very."

"John, we have to be quiet," she warned, squirming as he kissed her again. Mouth moving, hands moving, bringing her into a blissful state of arousal, of need. "Oh John," she enthused.

He lifted his mouth from a breast, his hand pausing as he pushed her thighs apart. "Oh Moira," he echoed. "I'll try to be quiet but I can't promise anything. Nor can you. I'm so hard now it will be a while before I can stop." He groaned. A blissful sigh as he entered her. Began to move in a gentle, alluring rhythm. "Ah, baby...you feel so fucking good."

"Oh John, John," she gushed, moving with him. Pulling him closer, kissing him. "John, do you think we are–"

"No," he cut off her words, "focus, Moira."

"You don't even know what I was going to–"

"Yes, I do know. The answer is no. We are not having too much sex, now focus, baby. Give me all you've got, all of it, all of you. Mine, baby, all of it." He kissed her, thrusting, thrusting.

Moira arched, lost herself in the momentum, the sensations. Pleasure as he brought her close, closer. Closer to the orgasm. She tightened around him and he moaned in sheer pleasure. "I guess. I guess I shouldn't ask you...when we're having sex...if we're having too much sex...oh John, oh John, John, John!" she cried as he abruptly moved quicker, harder, bringing her to a sudden climax. Cutting off her words, her concerns. Replacing them with the litany he loved to hear. He needed to hear.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Oh Moira, so fucking sweet!" he enthused, "so fucking tight!" Spasms erupting, releasing as he came in a wave of release. She squirmed under him, gasping, whimpering as the pleasure circled, cycled. Small but intense bursts with each thrust.

Moira relaxed but John was moving still, in a steady rhythm. She felt his hand moving under her, and she stifled a cry as he brushed her folds, her rear. Still taking her, taking her. "John, no...no doubles..."

"Just a little one, baby...just a little one to bring us both over the edge at last," he intoned gruffly. He kissed her. She writhed beneath him, helpless as he shifted, slid out of her. Then thrust into her, faster, quicker, rocking the bed with sudden intensity. "Moira, oh Moira, baby...so fucking sweet! Do you want me to stop?"

"John! Yes, oh yes, John, please, John...oh John, don't stop, don't...John!" she enthused, crying out softly as she came hard, fast, a rush of orgasms inundating her yet again. She clung, suppressing her sobbing cries as he moved his hand but kept rocking them, rocking the bed until the headboard slammed, slammed against the wall.

He groaned, grunted, tensing in a shudder as at last all of his energy was expended. Sated. "Fuck! Oh fuck," he lowered his voice. Fell upon her. "Fuck...sorry, baby...I needed...I needed to thoroughly fuck you, fuck me...I wanted all of it."

She stroked his back, kissed him. "John, it's all right. You...oh John...you..." Words failed her.

He freed her, kissed her repeatedly, rolled onto his side. Pulled her close, against him. "Moira...fuck it all, Moira...I can't blame you for anything. Hell, your welfare is more important than finding Ford...you...I'm not giving you up, baby, not for anything."

"John? You..." She stared, kissed him. "You...I..."

"Ssh...no post-coital talking, remember? No talking. No analyzing. No blaming."

"You...you...you son of a bitch!" she flared, shoving roughly.

"Hey! What the–"

"You son of a bitch!" she repeated, scrambling to sit, to glare at him. "How could you?"

"How could I what?" he asked, baffled. Staring at her. "Moira–"

"How could you use me?"

"Use you? What the hell are you talking about?"

"As bait! For Ford! You said you didn't think he would be on that planet but you lied, didn't you? Why else pretend to help me hunt for thylacines instead of leading your men into that structure? Why else pretend you wanted to spend time with me alone? Why else have that tracking device in your pocket in case your plans fell through?"

"What? Of course not!" he objected, sitting now, grabbing her arm before she could move away from him. "I would never use you in any way! Certainly not as bait, for God's sake! Moira, how could you even think that of me?"

"You did! You deliberately–"

"I kept you with me because I am the only one I trust to keep you completely safe! From Ford, from anyone, anything, all right? And yes, I suspected he might have been on that planet but I honestly wasn't sure...I was as surprised to see him there as you were. And yes, I had the tracking device just in case but for one of his men, not for him necessarily. But you...I'd never use you like that, sweetheart...never."

She stared at him. His voice low, sincere. His gaze intense, solemn. "You...you...but you blame me...you..."

"Yes," he admitted, "I did, stupid as that was. I blame myself, though, for letting him go. For letting him slip through my fingers yet again. You don't understand, Moira!" He sighed, freed her arm and eyed the darkness surrounding them. "He's out there. He's one...he's one I can save. One I lost...but I can save him. I can bring him back to the fold if he'd only let me." He tensed, uncomfortable, yet oddly secure talking to her. "I've lost...I've lost so many, Moira. My fault I lost them...I couldn't...I couldn't save them...but Ford...Ford I can save, I think."

Moira touched his arm. Fingers gently stroking, soothing. "I'm sorry, John...I didn't mean...I know you would never place me in harm's way." She leaned close, kissed his cheek. A tender offering. "I...I know how it feels to lose someone, John, to feel responsible...you...you need to find Ford, don't you? To bring him back to the fold. It wasn't your fault, what happened to him. No one could have stopped it."

He met her gaze, saw her sympathy, sincerity. "Still...he was under my command...and I keep letting him go. And I know...I know this won't end well, Moira. I can't let him stay out there. He's a serious liability to the safety of Atlantis. To everyone here. To you." He touched her cheek, ran his fingers through her hair. Kissed her softly. "Don't ever doubt my love for you, Moira. Don't you dare. I'll do whatever I must to keep you safe. To keep you with me. I'd die for you, Moira, if there was no other way to–"

"John, please don't say that!" she objected, gaze falling to the bed. Tears threatening.

"But it is true, Moira. I don't know why that upsets you."

"I...I can't...it just does, okay? So stop saying it! Just stop!" She turned away from him, curled on the bed, on her side. She stared at the darkness. Fighting guilt, worry. Memories. "I'll never forgive you if you, if you...so don't! Just don't!"

He stared at her. Settled close to her, pressing his body to hers. Arm sliding round her to keep her close. "Okay, Moira. Okay." He kissed her bare shoulder. "Go to sleep, sweetheart."

She sighed, catching his hand at her waist. "I'm sorry, John. I never doubted you...I...sometimes I can't quite believe..."

"Believe what?" he asked, kissing her shoulder again. "Moira?"

She turned to him, touched his chest. "I can't quite believe you, you love me. Like that. That I'm not just another of your lots some women," she softly admitted. Felt a blush on her face. She snuggled against him. "John...I love you, John."

He kissed her brow. "You're not. One of them, I mean. Never were. Go to sleep, Moira. This is why we banned post-coital talking, remember? Go to sleep. I'm so tired."


	8. Chapter 8

Dominance8

Pain woke Moira. She flinched, moved free of John's embrace. She sat, pulled her foot to her. The cramps made her hunch over, moan loudly. She gritted her teeth against the sudden surge of pain clawing her foot. "Ow!" she complained.

"You didn't see Carson, did you?" John accused. Awake instantly hearing her pain he sat. Turned her to him and took her foot into his hands. Smiled a moment at the socks she wore, had worn the entire night.

"No...it's not bad...it's...no..." she protested as he pulled off the sock. "John!"

"It's all right, Moira. Relax." He ran his fingers along the livid scars. "This will hurt for a minute, but then you'll feel better."

"It already hurts, John! No, you–" Her cry of pain erupted as he massaged the taut flesh, working the tension out of the cramped muscle. She braced herself as the pain flared, nearly unbearable, then subsided. She took a deep breath, released it, reclined on the bed. He scooted down the bed, taking her foot into his lap to gently massage and flex the muscles. "That's better. Thank you, John, you can let go now."

"Not yet." John ran his fingers over the raised scars, recalling the brutal attack by the sub-Wraith that had left her permanently scarred. "You are going to see Carson tomorrow...er, today," he corrected, glancing at the clock. The sun was rising over the ocean. Casting pallid beams into the room. As if afraid to disturb them. Finally he freed her foot, let her pull it out of his grasp.

Moira sat, bending her knees and scooting to him. Staring at his back. The familiar claw marks from a Wraith still there, healing slowly. She ran her fingers over faint scratches, uneven lines running from shoulder to lower back. "John? Did I...did I do this?"

He smiled at her shock, her chagrin. "Yes. Don't fret, baby. It only made me harder."

She hit his back. "I'm sorry, John! It's your own damn fault for bringing me so intensely!"

He laughed. "Yeah, I know. Ow!" he complained as she hit his back again. "Hey, I should have shown Lorne what you do to me. Maybe I'll get some sympathy."

"Not funny!" She kissed his shoulder. Ran her mouth along the scratches. "Better, sweetie?" Her hands slid down his back to his rear.

"You better be careful, baby. That's dangerous territory you're exploring," he warned.

She smiled. "Dangerous? I better do a perimeter check in that case." She ran her kisses along his back, shifting. Squeezed his rear.

"Hey!" he protested, moving.

She laughed. "How do you like it, sweetie?"

"I like it fine, baby. But the real package is here." He turned to her, smiled and raised his brows. "Care for a test flight, baby?"

"Hilarious, John. Behave." She drew a blanket around her as his gaze wandered. "I...I suppose you'll be leaving now?" she asked, seeing his glance to the clock again. To his watch.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess." He leaned close, kissed her. "I need to have Rodney do a sweep for that tracking device, however remote the chances are, and I know he'll go on and on about how impossible it is, then do it and proclaim how brilliant he is." He sighed again. "Are we, um, are we okay?"

She smiled at his frown, his awkwardness. "Yes, sweetie, we're okay. Don't you worry. You know, John, you could stay, if you wanted. I mean..." Her voice trailed off as she considered, glanced at the clock as well. "I mean...well, it's hardly a secret that we–"

"I know. But I should get going anyway." He hesitated, considered. Stood and began to pull on his clothes.

Moira watched him, disappointed but understanding. Amorous gaze taking in the last glimpses of his naked body before he covered himself with the rumpled clothing he had so hastily discarded hours earlier. "John...this thing with Evan...I'll talk to him later. Okay? Not that I didn't appreciate your alpha male way of handling things, but I can handle the rest. Okay?"

"Okay, Moira. But you don't have to talk to him. It's sorted. Done." He slipped on his shoes. Turned and leaned close to kiss her. Added in an off-hand manner, "And by the way, you're off his team. Meet me later in the cafeteria and be damn sure you go see Carson."

"What?" she asked, startled. "You...you can't do that! I'm on Evan's team!"

"Not any more," he corrected, strolling to the door. "I've decided. As of now you are no longer a part of Major Lorne's team. It's in my purview as military commander of Atlantis to reassign personnel as needed. As of now you are reassigned as soon as I find a suitable team. Although I am seriously considering keeping you strictly on base, on planet for now, to be deployed only if and when I deem it necessary."

"John!" Moira jumped out of the bed, wrapping the blanket around her naked body. She rushed to intercept him, to block his access to the door. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Yes? John, you can't do that! Why? I mean, you said yourself it was sorted! What are you thinking?"

He smiled, gaze roving. "Right now? I'm thinking I'd like nothing better than to rip that blanket from you and indulge in an hour or so of sex, but I have stuff to do, reports and–"

"Not that!" she flared, angry at his flippancy. "There's no need to remove me from Evan's team! One thing has nothing to do with the other! I'll talk to him and it will be fine! You can't let our private relationship affect your command decisions or–"

"Decision's made, Moira. You are in my purview, baby, under my command. To do with whatever I deem necessary. Whatever I please. And you will. Now...I don't know about you but I think whipped cream is way too cliched...I'm thinking more along the lines of kinky and some sweet caramel sauce to–"

"Shut up!" She stepped aside. "Get out!"

He smiled. "Ah, baby...are you sure? You must be cold in that blanket. I've got five minutes. I can warm you up real good and then–"

"Go, damn you! You have no right to–"

He became serious, pulling her into his arms. "I have every right, Moira! It's done. Or rather it will be once I make it official. So deal." He kissed her, but she pushed free of him. The blanket slipped and she hastily grabbed it round her again, flustered as he laughed.

"Go! Get out! I will not let you do this! I won't!"

"You don't have a choice, Moira. Now get that pert little ass in the cafeteria in an hour. That is a direct order from your colonel."

"Colonel? You're acting more like a lowly captain! John...this doesn't make sense! You can't just take me–"

"Oh, believe me, baby, I can take you. Repeatedly." He opened the door, exited. Said over his shoulder, "And I will."

Moira cursed, followed him into the hallway. "Like hell you will! Damn it, John, I won't stand for this! What is this? Some ego thing? Some stupid alpha male territorial behavior?"

He turned to her. "Get that pert little ass back in there! I don't want the whole base to see what is mine. Go!" he ordered, pointing.

She stood firm. Embarrassed she flushed as a few people passed, stopped. Stared, then moved on. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her. "No. I'll do what I like, captain, and you're bellowing won't change that! I am on Evan's team whether you like it or not!"

"Not any more. Decisions made." He smirked. "Um, Moira...were you planning to flash the entire base this morning? I mean, I quite enjoy it but still..."

"What? Shit!" She wrapped the blanket tighter as it had slipped yet again, revealing her breast, her hip. "This isn't over yet, John! Just you wait!" She hastened back into her room.

He laughed. "Really, Moira? I'd love to see the whole show, I really would."

"Shut up, John!" she shouted as she closed the door.

He laughed again. "Deal's done, baby!" He sauntered down the hallway.

* * *

Moira avoided the cafeteria. She made her way to the armory, her swift steps slightly marred by a limp. She ignored her discomfort. Slowly she neared Evan as he was firing a gun at a target. Hitting the dead center over and over. Once he lowered the weapon she coughed. "I didn't think you needed the practice."

Evan glanced at her. "It's always good to remain sharp." He set the gun back into his holster after clicking on the safety. "Especially when Colonel Sheppard threatens to kill you."

"What?" she exclaimed. Thrown by his words, his off-hand tone.

"Go." Evan waited until Aaron Josephes discreetly left them.

"Evan? What are you talking about? I'm sure, I'm sure it was just John's sarcastic sense of humor, that's all."

"No. He was deadly serious, Moira. He threatened to send me back to Earth, or to kill me." He eyed her. Saw her genuine consternation. Surprise. "I have to say I never would have guessed."

"Guessed what? Why would he say those things to you? I know he has a terrible temper, but still..." Her voice fell into silence.

"I never would have guessed that you were that good in bed to make him so fucking protective of having you in his bed."

"Evan?" she asked, startled. A blush warmed her cheeks.

"After what he told me about what he does to you, well, I can see why you'd be under his spell. But him? I figured you'd just be yet another in the long string of women he's had. Maybe last a week or two and then he'd move on. And I'd have to pick up the pieces because you would be hurt, and upset, and depressed. But now..."

"How can you say that? How can you say that about John?" she asked, shocked to hear those sentiments from him. Even if she had had the same thoughts in the beginning.

"Oh please, Moira! Even you know it's true. Even you couldn't quite believe he'd stay with you this long! No offense but you're not his usual type of woman. But then again after hearing how he fucks you maybe you are."

She frowned, folded her arms in front of her chest. "That's none of your business, Evan! You–"

"It is now, isn't it? How the hell was I to know you didn't mean what you were saying? You made it sound like he was forcing you to do things you didn't want to do. Not a willing participant!" he flared, anger rising to the surface.

"I...I'm sorry, Evan. This has gotten all out of proportion. You should have known John wouldn't hurt me, would never hurt any woman."

"How would I know that when you were acting like he had hurt you? Forced you? Don't worry, now I know better. Hell, half the base knows how much you enjoy what he does to you."

"With me, and no! Look, look, we need to get past this, Evan!"

"I have, Moira." He eyed her. "Let me guess...he's taken you off my team, hasn't he?"

She stared. "How did you–"

"And he probably wants to restrict you to Atlantis, doesn't he? You've really got his head turned around, haven't you? Maybe it is better if you are off my team."

"What?" Moira couldn't believe what he was saying. "How can you say that?"

Evan shrugged. "Because then I won't have the added pressure of the colonel breathing down my neck every second you are gone! If you so much as broke a nail he'd probably shoot me!"

"You're being ridiculous!" she flared, angered at his petty assessment.

"Am I? Don't you remember when we were on the mainland? He kept radioing me every ten minutes to be certain you were safe, that we'd be back before dark! Frankly I don't need your lover's overzealous concern on my watch!" The words flew him from, tinged with anger, with envy. A wince of regret hit him but he ignored it.

"Evan! He's not like that and you know it!"

"Then why did he take you off my team, Moira? Shall I tell you exactly why?"

"Damn it, Evan! You are as stubborn and obstinate as John is! Nothing has changed!"

"Everything had changed!" he retorted. Blue eyes full of angered irritation.

She sighed. "Why? Why had everything changed? Because this little misunderstanding has mushroomed into a gigantic mess for no reason? Because you got the wrong impression about, about John and myself? That has nothing to do with me being a member of your team! I don't understand, Evan! Don't you want me on your team?"

"Frankly, no," he replied. Voice quiet. Regret threaded through it but he remained firm. Even as surprise and hurt filled her brown eyes. "I already told you that. I don't need the added aggravation, not to mention you falling behind in your reports just to be with him."

"I don't–" she objected, voice catching in her throat.

"Tell me, how often are you having sex with him, Moira? It seems to be every night when we are in Atlantis. What about all of those away missions with him? Was he even fucking you then? On a mission? He must have really fucked you hard in that nineteen twenties land since you were so upset, or were you just turned on by it?"

Moira's eyes widened, guilt all too evident by his perspicacity. But she glowered. "Damn it, Evan! Why are you pissed at me? What do you care how often he fucks me, or where? It has nothing to do with–"

"It has everything to do with being on my team! Can't you see that? I guess not, since you are so besotted with him and all those fucking orgasms! When he finally does tire of you, and believe me, he will, you are going to be one frustrated, deprived little–"

"Shut up! He's not like that! Not with me!" she nearly shouted. His words a whisper of dread in her mind. "What do you care if he dumps me? It has nothing to do with being on your team!" She paused. Feeling tears. "Does it?"

"Figure it out, Moira. If you can manage to tear yourself away from his bed for once!"

"Evan! Evan!" she called, but he stalked past her, not trusting himself to reveal more, to start shouting at her. "Evan?" She swore, aghast at their argument. Embarrassed. Appalled. Wanting nothing more than to run to John's arms but knew she couldn't. She wiped her eyes as the tears threatened. Confusion twisted.

With a morose sigh she sat in the dark, staring at nothing.


	9. Chapter 9

Dominance9

John entered the medical bay, annoyed. Moira had never joined him in the cafeteria. He was still rankled by their argument. Amused when he remembered her standing in the hallway wrapped only in a blanket. He strolled over to Carson. "Doc, I assume you've taken Moira off active duty but I need to know for how long. You can make it two or even three weeks."

"What are you talking about, John?" Carson asked, lifting his gaze from the data screen to meet his gaze. "Why would I take Moira off active duty?"

"She hasn't been to see you," John realized. Frowned.

"No. Should she have?"

"Yes. About her foot. Damn it, I told her twice now to see you! Her foot keeps cramping. It was real bad last night."

"Then why hasn't she been to see me?" Carson asked, concerned.

"I don't know. I'll drag her here myself once I find her. Take her off active duty for as long as she needs, whether she likes it or not."

"Colonel, you cannot force her to come see me," Carson chastised.

"No, I can't," he agreed to the doctor's assessing stare, "but I can persuade her. Hell, I'll carry her here if it comes to that. Why is she so stubborn? Why can't she see what's going on right in front of her? Why can't she just do as she's told?" he grumbled.

Carson smiled. "She's not one of your marines, colonel."

"Oh, I know that...she's...she's a woman, a stubborn, irritating, melodramatic..." He sighed, saw the doctor's amusement. "It's not funny!" He turned and strode out of the lab.

"Colonel Sheppard? Sir?"

John whirled, watched Aaron approach. The younger man appeared nervous, but resolute. "Lieutenant Josephes?"

"Sir! I, um, I, um, I just thought you should know, sir."

"Know what, lieutenant?" John asked, suppressing a sigh.

"Sir, Moira and Evan, I mean Doctor O'Meara and Major Lorne...they are in the armory, sir. They were having an argument, sir. As I was leaving I heard raised voices, sir. They were nearly shouting at each other, sir. I just thought you should know, sir."

"Ah. I see. Thank you, lieutenant. Oh, lieutenant," he added as the younger man was turning to leave, "you don't have to sir me after every sentence. One will do."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir...I mean...I...yes, sir," he said, flustered. He smiled, shrugged.

John smiled, shook his head. Strode to the transporter, cursing to himself. Wondering why Moira could not have left things alone. He made his way to the armory, biting back his own anger, his own annoyance. He stood a moment in the darkened, deserted room. Saw no one. He advanced, hearing a soft noise. The scuff of a shoe against the floor.

Moira was sitting on a stool, foot moving carefully against the floor. She was staring miserably at the darkness. The rows of weapons ahead of her, intimidating even in the shadows. Her face was rosy. Tears glimmered in her eyes. He walked to her slowly. Careful steps. Paused.

John touched a P90 on the shelf. Uncomfortable. Worried. Hated this kind of confrontation. Blatant emotions that he only welcomed during sex. Physical, not emotional storms. "I've been meaning to show you how to shoot one of these," he began calmly, as if he hadn't noticed anything amiss. "There's a way to hold it so the recoil doesn't knock you backwards. I can't have you falling on that pert little ass in the middle of a gunfight, now can I?"

She looked at him, briefly smiled. "John." So much emotion in that one word.

"Come here, Moira. I can show you now. Here," he invited. Gestured.

Moira hesitated. She stood, moved to him, silent. Uncertain. He touched her shoulders, guided her in front of him to face the target. He stood very close behind her. Just brushing her rear wit his body. Hands on her shoulders, fingers whisking her hair out of the way.

"Take hold of the P90," he instructed, voice close to her ear. His breath tickling her skin.

She touched the gun, distracted by his closeness, his warmth. His quiet voice alluring, soothing. Arousing as he ran soft kisses down her throat suddenly.

John watched her touch the gun barrel. Run her fingers up and down. Up and down, oddly reminiscent of how she had stroked him last night. He suppressed a moan as her fingers played along the gun. As her rear brushed his crotch. He couldn't tell if it was deliberate or not. "Moira," he said low, "you don't have to give the gun a hand-job. It's already hard and stiff." He heard her smirk, snort as her fingers stopped. He smiled. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No." She turned to him, moved into his arms as they enfolded her. She leaned against his chest, shoulder. "I don't want to talk any more, John."

He kissed her brow, her cheek. "Tell me what happened, Moira. Tell me what he said."

"No. Just...just..." She lifted her head, kissed him. He returned the kiss. Her fingers slid down to his pants as she stepped back. Fingers feeling, searching as her mouth captured his again. Her fingers stroked, stroked.

John broke the kiss with a groan. "Moira?"

"Don't you want me to stroke it like this, John? To make it hard? Stiff? No talking, John!" She kissed him again. Deeply. Fingers stroking, grabbing as he became aroused, hard under her caresses. Her mouth teasing his, opening to invite his tongue. Hearing her need in her soft murmur. She unzipped, undid his pants. "John...oh John...I just...just..."

"Just need to be fucked," he whispered in her ear, kissing her again. He undid, unzipped her pants, yanked them down with her panties with one abrupt tug. Making her gasp, whimper. His fingers caressed, testing. His tongue dove into her mouth as his fingers dove into her.

Moira gasped, squirmed, but John grabbed her rear to squeeze. He lifted her suddenly. Her pants and panties slithered off her as he tugged them from one leg. He set her on the shelf where the gun lay. Blinds were on either side of them. Shadows dominated the room. Moira pushed the gun aside, laid back as he leaned forward, kissing her. "Oh John, oh John," she whispered.

He straightened, hands on her hips. He entered her. Groaned softly as her wetness, tightness met him, enfolded him. He began to thrust. Long, lazy motions to make her squirm. To make her whimper beneath him.

Moira scrambled for something to hold but there was nothing. Nothing except John above her, thrusting. Thrusting faster, harder, groaning quietly. Sounds deep in his throat. Male. Sexual. She grabbed a bar above her , partially lifting. She gasped, moaned, made noises as he thrust, thrust. He grabbed her hips to steady her, to keep her in place. She lost her breath, crying out softly, softly as the pleasure spiraled.

John moaned, straining a moment as he came but moved with precision, faster, faster. Harder, until Moira cried out, unable to keep her reactions quiet.

"Oh John! Oh John, John, John!" she enthused, lowering her voice as the orgasm hit, the flood of pleasure making her arch, lift up higher until he pulled her back down. Nearly onto him as he thrust deeper.

"Ah, Moira! Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered. "Oh baby...baby..." He slowed, relaxed. "Let go, sweetheart."

Moira freed the bar, laid back but he slid out of her. Pulled her abruptly to her feet and kissed her. Pressing her against him. She murmured as the kisses continued until he suddenly knelt.

"Step." She did so. He pulled up her panties, her pants to her hips, waist. Pulled up his own.

"John, oh John...I...you must have been in ecstasy, sweetie. Weapons and sex?"

He smiled. "You know it, baby. Damn..." He kissed her, stepped back to fix his clothes. Tuck himself back into his shorts. Pleasured, pleased at their exertions.

Moira fixed her own clothes, flustered but pleased. Uncertain but reassured. "Well, captain...you've just been promoted to a major."

"Major?" He raised a brow. "I should have been a colonel after that, baby? At least."

"Not yet, sweetie. A quickie does not merit a colonel status. For that you need to do something extraordinary." She sighed. "John, I'm sorry! I...John, I just...John, what the hell are we–"

"Ssh." He pulled her close, kissed her. "Something extraordinary? Let me think about that, baby. I'll think of something. Now tell me."

"No. John..." She kissed him again. Ran her hands along his chest, unable to meet his gaze. "I don't know...I don't know what's happening to me. I don't...John, I need to get drunk. No, I need to get shit-faced drunk. Okay? And then I want...I just want to be with you, John! I just want to be with you as intimately as we can be! So it's just us, John, no one else! Just you. Me. I want...I want you to fuck me."

"Wha...huh? Moira?"

"A quickie is all well and good, sweetie, but I need...I want to get shit-faced drunk and then I want you to fuck me. Against a wall, or door...whatever. Okay? Okay, John?" She shyly met his gaze, tears sparkling in her eyes.

He stared at her serious, sad expression. Passion still shining even with the tears. "Moira? Okay, Moira. Okay. You need to see Carson about your foot. Then you need to tell me exactly what went on here. It must be bad if you want to get drunk."

"Shit-faced drunk, John," she corrected. "I'll make you a deal, sweetie. I'll go see Carson but then I need to get shit-faced drunk. Then you will fuck me against a wall, or door...okay?"

"Then you will tell me what the hell went on here, baby. Deal?"

She considered. Fingers playing on his chest again. She chewed her lower lip. Made that soft sound he found so enticing. Erotic. "Okay. But I don't want to talk about it. I want...I tried to fix this...I did! But he...I tried...I just want to be with you, John, in every way," she said in a small voice. Emotion trembling in her words.

"You are, sweetheart. You will be, don't you worry. Nothing gets between us, Moira. Nothing. No one. Let's go. We have a deal now. Let's go."

* * *

Moira stopped suddenly, caught John's arm in the hallway. "We can't. I mean, we can't go in there. I can't. We just had sex."

He smiled. "I know. I was there. So?"

"So? We just had sex," she repeated, flustered. "I mean we just...only a few minutes ago we..."

"So? Quit stalling. You are not reneging on our deal, baby." He steered her into the infirmary.

"Park your pert little ass on a bed and I'll find Carson."

"John! You...oh fine!" she grumbled, sat on a bed. Shifted. Very conscious of their recent, very recent sexual activity. Could feel it, smell it. She blushed. Mortified at her own boldness, insistence. Irritated at John's agreement, his easy compliance. She hugged herself, finding her behavior out of character. Wondered at Evan's words, his accusations. She crossed her legs tightly as the two men approached.

John smirked, but schooled his expression as she glared at him. He waited, watching.

"Moira," Carson said, seeing nothing amiss, or pretending not to, "John tells me you've been having trouble with your foot. Why on Earth didn't you come to see me?"

She shrugged. "It's not that bad."

"It's bad and happens far too often," John corrected. "Tell him."

"Here. Take off your shoe and let's have a look, shall we? When was the last time?"

"Oh, about five minutes ago," John quipped, smiling.

Moira glared. "My foot, John!" She removed her shoe. "Last night. It cramped. It hurt quite a lot, but it's fine now."

"Sock too," Carson insisted. "Apart from the cramping what else? Soreness? Stiffness?" He glanced at John who had coughed to cover a laugh as Moira met his gaze. "Colonel, I fail to see the humor in this."

"Sorry, Carson. Private joke. Moira–"

"Why don't you make yourself useful, major," she deliberately taunted, "and get my beer."

"Beer? Moira, you don't drink. Look, love, I'm sorry. I misunderstood you when you came back from that mission. I know that John would never hurt you, and whatever the two of you do in private is none of my business." He glanced at John. "Sorry."

"See?" Moira pointed, felt tears. "Carson is perfect! He gets it! Why can't Evan be like that? Why did he have to be so hateful and say those things and accuse me of, of, of..." She stopped. Removed her sock.

Carson eyed John, who shrugged, shook his head. "All right, love, let's take a look." He moved to exam her scarred foot.

"You better hold up your end of the deal, major. Get my beer," she ordered.

He smiled. "As ordered, doctor. I'll be right back. Be careful, doc," he added, hearing her gasp of pain, discomfort.

"I know what I'm doing, John. Go." As John left Carson grabbed a scanner, ran it over her foot. "I don't see any obvious signs of injury, or damage. The tissues are healed. There's a slight swelling but that is more than likely because you are not resting it enough. Have you had some trouble with Evan?"

"Yes. With Evan. With John. Men!" She sighed. "I'm not talking about it. Besides, weren't you going to start charging now? For therapy sessions?"

Carson met her gaze, smiled. "Aye, for couples. Not this. Seriously, Moira, if you need to talk I'm here for you. But you should be talking to–"

"John, I know." She sighed. "He's the only one who understands me any more."

"Yes, he told me he understands Moira-speak quite well." At her puzzled stare he added, "That's what he called it, when you were saying one thing but meaning another."

"Oh. Well. He's right. Damn, he's been right a lot these past days."

"Don't let it go to his head." They shared a quiet laugh.

John joined them, smiled. "Is this a good sign?" He held two beers.

"I can't find anything wrong with your foot, love. I'll give you a shot, a muscle relaxant, and some pills. Take one each night. Come see me tomorrow morning. We may have to work out those muscles and I may have to give you a deeper scan. I may even had to operate again."

"Okay. A shot?" She made a face. "What's wrong with it?" she asked, pulling on her sock, her shoe.

"I don't know, Moira, but I will find out. You need to keep off your feet." He glanced at John. "I'm restricting you to the city for a few weeks to rest your foot. Hold still."

"Ow!" she complained as he swiftly injected her. "What was that? That look! Did you two plan on keeping me here?" She eyed them. Suspicious.

"No. That is my medical decision."

"Fine." She stood. "Thank you, Carson." She headed for the doorway. "Major! Let's go!"

"Major?" Carson asked.

"You don't want to know. Moira!" He caught up with her, strolled beside her. "Ah, baby, when you walk fast like that it's a vision back here, I swear!"

"Shut up, John!" she said mildly. She reached her door but he caught her hand, pulled her along the hallway. "Where–"

"My room."

"But my bed's more comfortable."

"Who says we're using a bed?" he asked, smiled at her. "As I recall you didn't mention a bed. Not at all."


	10. Chapter 10

Dominance10

Moira hesitated, as John opened the door to his room. "Um, John, just give me my ow!"

John swatted her rear. "In." He followed her into the room, closed the door. Locked it.

She turned to him. Frowned. Held out her hand. "Beer."

He handed her one, after opening it for her. Opened his. "Sit." He indicated the bed. He strolled to it, sat. Took a long swallow of his beer.

Moira sipped. "Ugh! How do you get this down fast? I mean all at once."

He smiled. "Chug it, baby. Just don't choke."

"Thanks, sweetie." She drank, drank, grimacing with each swallow. John sipped his, watching her down half the bottle. She groaned, wiped her mouth. "God, that's awful!"

He laughed, but grew serious. "Sit. Talk."

She sighed. Moved to the table. Hoisted herself on it, letting her feet swing clear off the floor. "I don't want to talk, John. You see what happens when I talk. So no. No more melodrama." She sipped some beer. "Ugh." She set the bottle aside.

"That was the deal, Moira. Talk."

She shook her head. "No. John...can't we just have sex?" she asked, tilting her head, pouting. Her gaze raking all along him.

He scowled. "No. Spill it, Moira."

"Funny, John, I was going to say don't spill it. At least not yet," she teased.

"Hilarious, Moira. I can wait all day, baby." He drank some beer.

"Can you? Not as I recall. I can wait, too, sweetie." She sipped, grimaced. Sighed. Set the bottle aside again.

John downed the last of the beer. Set the bottle on the table. "Fine." He waited, knew she'd talk eventually. Lazily removed his shoes. Ran a hand through his hair.

Moira slid off the table. Moved to sit next to him. "John..." She sidled close to him. Whispered in his ear, "Don't you want to fuck me, sweetie?" She kissed around his ear the way he liked.

"I want to fuck you, baby, I want to bring you just like you want, but first you need to talk to me. What happened with Lorne? Talk," he insisted, trying to ignore her seductions.

She sighed, stood. "Damn it, John, it was nothing! I'm so tired of this! I'm so tired!" She moved to the table, stood with her back to him. Glaring at the beer bottle. "You were right, okay? You were right! I never should have gone to talk to him! Happy now? We're having too much sex, John! Too much! Too loud! Too, too intense! Too often! Too, too wonderful! He was angry! No, he was pissed." She grabbed the bottle, downed some beer. "Ugh! I don't know why, John, I don't! Probably because you had to tell him how you rock my world, how you bring me to such...why does he care anyway? Why does he care how often, how many, where, when, how intense...like I'm spending too much time with you, on you, but I hardly see you for days and then when we do..." she spluttered, anger and sorrow mixing as the alcohol buzzed in her.

"He asked that?" John inquired mildly, taking in every word. Every single one. Every word fraught with emotion, distress, chagrin.

"Yes. Why? Why?"

"You don't know?" he tested, watching her.

"No! What does our, our relationship have to do with me being on his team? He, he said you are overzealously protective, says you were breathing down his neck when we were on the mainland but that's not true! And then to imply that all you want to do is to...John," she moved to him, sat near. Took his hand into hers. "I don't want to hurt you. I know how sensitive you are about your lots some women..."

"Go on," he encouraged. Keeping his reactions, his emotions under tight control.

"He um, he figured...he thought...he just assumed you would have dumped me by now. Like your, um, your other women, you know, your lots some women you have sex with and then move on because it is only sex, right? But you didn't...you didn't..." She felt tears. "It's more than the sex, right, John? Right? I mean...I mean...we can't, we have to stop having sex if it's only the sex that keeps you from...I don't know why he'd care if you dumped me or not."

"It's more," he assured quietly. "And he was waiting to pick up the pieces, Moira. Didn't he tell you that?"

"Yes. How did you...John, John, I'm sorry...I'm sorry!"

He kissed her, stroking her thigh. "It's all right, Moira. Go on."

"No." She laid back, sighed. "We have to stop, John. He said I wasn't your type. What is your type, John? Oh, probably not a scientist. You've never had a scientist, have you? Have you ever had a paleozoologist?"

He smiled, leaned down to her. Caressed her waist. "You're my first."

"Oh. What is your type? Probably some beautiful blond like the hat check girl. Or someone less emotional. Less fucked up, right? Without melodrama. I'm sorry about all the melodrama–"

He broke off her teary words with a long kiss. Fingers moving to unbutton her pants. He slid his hand under the fabric and began to stroke the panties. He ran his mouth along her cheek, down her throat. Pressing close, closer. "Moira. I only want you. Even your melodrama."

She murmured, shifting under his caresses. "Why does he care at all about, about–"

"He wants you." He kissed her again, soothing her. Arousing her. Himself as he felt the need to comfort her, to make her his own.

"What?" She stared at him. "No, no! He never..." She shifted as he pulled off her pants. Threw them onto the floor. Unzipped his.

"Shall I tell you, my Moira? He wanted to be there to console you after we broke up. But I'm not going anywhere so he's never going to have you like this. And even if we did break up he now knows he'll never, never be able to give you what I give you, the way I pleasure you, over and over. I know that sounds arrogant, but it is the truth. Right?"

"I...yes..." She moved as his fingers caressed quicker, quicker. "John...oh John, we–"

"Oh Moira, there is no way in hell we are not having sex. I'm not leaving you, or giving up your love for me. My love for you. I want you, baby. I want you every fucking day," he confessed, kissing her passionately. "Baby, do you still want me to fuck you? Against a wall?"

"Yes, John, that was part of the deal," she reminded, succumbing to his seductions.

"I'm hard as a rock, baby, so it's a good thing you said yes," he teased, kissing her. He moved off her, pulling off his pants, shorts. Motions quick, efficient. He moved over her, kissing her. Shoved her shirt and bra out of the way to kiss her breasts, to tease and suck until she arched, moaned in sensual happiness. "I'll make it all better, baby, I promise," he said hoarsely, pulling down her panties. Pulling them off as she obligingly moved. He kissed along her inner thigh.

"John, oh John, you...oh John," she softly cried, squirming, grabbing the blankets as he slid his mouth up, up, delved into her with ruthless, aggressive efficiency.

Hearing her muffled cries as she squirmed, squirmed he lifted his head to see her covering her mouth with her hand. He smiled, slid up to push her hand aside. To kiss her. A searing, possessive kiss that took her breath away. "Not yet, baby...here we go." He moved off and gently rolled her onto her stomach. He slid onto her, pressing his erection along her rear as he kissed down her back. He freed her hair from the ponytail.

"John, oh John, please...please..." she whispered, a flood of frustrated desire enveloping her.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Moira?" he asked in her ear, voice harsh with desire, lust. He moved off her again, pulled her up to her knees. Pushed her up to the headboard. "You have to say it, baby. Say it." He ran his hand down her back to her rear. Squeezed to make her gasp, moan. He pulled her hips out a bit, shoved her thighs apart. Ran his hand teasingly all the way along her intimately. She released a shuddering breath. "So fucking wet...damn...I have to bring you now, baby, or I'll burst." He entered her, moaned in satisfaction. "Say it, Moira, say it," he repeated, pinning her wrists to the headboard as he began a slow, careful rhythm.

"Oh John! John...fuck me, John," she whispered.

"What? I can't hear you, Moira. Oh Moira, say it now. Loudly," he advised, moving quicker. Reveling in each sensation, the delicious friction, the give and take.

"John!" She clung to the headboard. "Fuck me, John. Fuck me! Oh John!" she urged.

"A double, baby?" he asked tersely, about to lose his own control as she clenched her muscles around him. Slick and tight to make him unbearably hard, tense. "Fuck, fuck!" he growled.

"Yes, John, yes!" she enthused, losing herself in the raw pleasure, the sheer animalistic drive that was rocking the bed, rocking them both. As his hands slid around her, down, down to tease and torment, to prod and poke she whimpered loudly, arching and sobbing. Her moans nearly in sync with his grunts.

John tensed, tensed, riding the waves of passion, of pleasure. Succumbing to the pure sexual motions, but listening for any sounds of pain or the safe word from her lips. Faster, harder. Deeper. The headboard rattled wildly. The bed squeaking, bouncing beneath them as he shifted position slightly without missing a beat.

Moira cried out, unable to keep her voice down, to keep silent, his name a rough litany on her breathless lips as she came, came. As the climax blossomed, doubling, sending her into a riot of throbbing ecstasy.

John groaned loudly, her cries urging him. The litany of his name spurring him faster, quicker. He strained, lost himself for a moment, wondering if he'd ever stop, ever lose that hardness in her. "Moira!" he growled, then a string of swear words erupted as came, spurting with release.

Moira whimpered as at last his motions slowed, slowed, then suddenly a last, violent thrust that nearly knocked her into the wall. She heard sounds from him she'd never heard at other times. A male, deep groan that made her shiver, made her tighten along him. He fell against her, breath ragged, hot on her skin. Tension easing. One last ripple of pleasure making her moan as he slid out of her. Still leaned heavily upon her.

"Oh Moira, Moira...fuck that...I've never...that was the best, longest...best fuck of my life! Moira...are you okay?" His voice was low, husky.

She tried to catch her breath, hot. Enamored. "I...yes, John. John...welcome back, colonel."

He smiled. "Colonel? I should be a fucking general after that, baby." He moved to recline on the bed, rolled onto his back. Hot. Sweaty. Satisfied.

Moira knew she should move, realized that John was getting quite an eyeful. She finally freed the headboard, scooted down. Melted into a puddle and rested on her back. "Oh John...I never...you...we...you..."

"Don't start. Don't start the blame, baby. No melodrama. No, wait. Bring on the melodrama. Melodrama sex might be better than angry sex. Moira, either we broke the headboard or you broke off my cock. I'm not sure which. Damn...even my balls are still tingling with–"

"John!" she scolded. Rolled next to him, slid over him to kiss him. "I can still feel you inside me, sweetie. Deep, deep inside me, still hard as a rock! How could you keep it up that long?"

"Hell if I know," he muttered, exhausted. He tangled his fingers in her hair, kissing her repeatedly. Moira shifted over him, fingers sliding under his shirt to caress his chest.

"John, I've been thinking...we are having too much–"

"Sex? No. Moira, we are not having too much sex. I don't care what anyone else says or thinks, all right? Maybe too intense sex, but not too much." He stroked her back. Fingers gliding under her shirt.

"Shit. Someone probably heard me. Heard you," she complained.

"So what? I don't care anymore, my Moira. Nor should you. My overzealous protection will shield you, don't you worry. As for what we do, it's nobody's business but ours."

"But we have to stop, John, we..." She sighed, closed her eyes, nestling on him. His solid warmth comforting, loving. She felt so tired suddenly. Elated and worried. The beer making her head buzz. The intense sex making her sleepy. "Don't go, John," she muttered, yanking a blanket over them.

He kissed her brow. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"John, I feel all woozy. Woozy, sweetie. John's my sweetie," she gushed, giggled.

He smiled. "Sleep it off, baby. I'm right here." He kissed her again, stroking her back. For once not ready to fall asleep right after sex. Debating what to do. Waiting for Moira to fall asleep. Brooding over her words, what she had told him. Trying to concentrate on that instead of the incredibly orgasmic sex. "Moira?" He gently nudged her. "Sleep, baby. I'll fix everything." He waited, until he was satisfied she was fast asleep. He slid out from under her. Dressed. Splashed some water on his face, washed his hands. Left her asleep on his bed.


	11. Chapter 11

Dominance11

The sparring room was full. Ronon Dex was putting the marines through their paces. Sticks swung. Men swore. Ronon grinned, moving among them, criticizing, cajoling. Spotting Evan standing to one side, stick idle in his hand John walked to him. Suddenly all motion ceased. Men straightened.

"Sheppard," Ronon greeted, "we were–"

"Training, yes, I can see that. Clear the room."

"Sir?" one marine asked.

"I said the clear the room," John repeated mildly, but there was an edge to his voice.

"Yes, sir!"

As the marines filed out silently John glanced at Ronon was standing near, watching the two men. Suspicion filled his eyes. "You too, Ronon. The major and I have some...personal issues to discuss. In private." Ronon hesitated, but as John's steely gaze the Satedan nodded, relented and left the two men alone. John smiled. He picked up a pair of fighting sticks. Hefted the weight of each. Circled as Evan grabbed another stick, joining him. "You upset Moira," John said without preamble. "I am getting tired of that."

Evan smiled. "I'm surprised you noticed, sir. What with continually fucking her and all."

John smiled, but it was a cold, predatory smile. Calculating. "Oh, I notice everything, major. You'd be surprised. It's just us now. No rank. No privileges. Oh, wait. I have privileges. All of them. Every single privilege you want I have. Repeatedly."

Evan's sticks hit John's hard, but he held his ground. "Yes, Sheppard, I'm sure you consoled the hell out of her. Whether she wanted it or not," he accused, blue eyes cold.

John hit the sticks, but tempered his anger as they goaded each other. "I did. Repeatedly. And she wanted it. You have no idea how much she wanted it. I've taken her to places you'll never reach. I've made her feel things you could never make her feel. I've made her beg for me to fuck her hard, so hard–" he taunted smugly.

"You son of a bitch!" Evan dropped the sticks, rushed at him. Fists flying. John dropped his, took the first punch. Landed his own. "Is that all she is to you? A piece of ass to fuck?"

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? If she was just another piece of ass," John agreed.

"And you've had so many you would know!" Evan landed another punch, knocking John's jaw so hard he half-spun on his feet.

"She's not! Not to me!" John informed, landing his own fist across Evan's right eye.

"Bullshit!" Fists flew. The two men scrambled, grappled. "All she is to you is a good fuck!"

"A fantastic fuck," John corrected, as if he were discussing something completely innocuous, "But she's so much more! To me! Face it, Lorne, I'm not leaving her!"

"You will! You'll get tired of her and break her heart!"

"No. So back the fuck off!"

"I won't let you hurt her!"

"I never will! Never."

The two men paused. Bruised. Bloodied. Sore and tired. Catching their breath they eyed each other warily. The words sinking in, flying as fast as their fists had. John leaned against the wall, wiped his bloody lip, as Evan sank to his knees, touched his blackening, swelling eye.

"Do you love her?" Evan asked, staring at the other man.

"Yes." The answer came instantly. Quietly. John scowled.

Evan relaxed, winced at the pain. "That's all I needed to know, sir. That she's more to you than just another sexual diversion."

"Then why didn't you say so before, damn it?"

Evan shrugged. A smile tugged at his commander's irritation. "If Moira could see us now she would be pissed, sir."

"Don't I know it, major. She'll be pissed enough seeing us all bruised and battered."

"Well, sir, it is your privilege to explain it to her. And then face her anger."

John sighed. "That it is, major." He moved from the wall. Held out a hand. Evan took it. John pulled him to his feet. "Let's get a beer. I 'll need a drink before I face the wrath of O'Meara."

Evan laughed. "That you will, sir."

The two men headed to the cafeteria. Ignored the stares as the tension between them had dissipated. They drank companionably, pretending not to hear the whispered speculation, the comments.

"Sir, is she back on my team?"

John considered. "Yes...but not now. Pending Carson's release. She's restricted to base because of her foot. For a few weeks."

"Thank you, sir. I'm sorry...I...I got the wrong idea. I just...I'll try to dial down my concern."

"Good. And I'll try to dial down my overzealous protection. But you make damn sure she is safe out there."

"Of course, sir. I would do nothing less."

"Good." John finished his beer. "Get yourself to the infirmary. That eye is going to be a beauty tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. How's the jaw?"

"Sore as hell, thanks. Speaking of which I should go see what's keeping my sleeping beauty. Wish me luck because I am going to need it." At Evan's smirk John smiled, shrugged. Rubbed his jaw as he exited the cafeteria.

* * *

John quietly entered his room, smiled. Moira was still asleep, curled under the blanket on his bed. He neared, but paused seeing her panties on the floor. He lifted them, smirked, moved to hang them on the headboard. He carefully slid onto the bed. Slid under the blanket next to her. Spooned against her back as she reclined on her side. He ran his hand down her back to her rear, to gently squeeze, squeeze. "Moira? Moira," he said into her ear, ran kisses down her throat.

Moira stirred, muttered. Shoved her rear into his crotch.

He slid his hand up her hip to her waist. Slid his fingers under the shirt to caress the scar. Turning her gently onto her back. "Moira sweetheart, wake up." He kissed her lips, her cheek, her throat. Fingers sliding up under her bra, shoving it aside. He caressed a breast. Kissed her.

Moira stirred, shifted, half awake now. Feeling John pressing against her. His warmth. His voice. "John." She smiled as he moved her shirt and bra up. Cupped and caressed her breasts. She opened her legs as his fingers were replaced by his mouth, his tongue. She arched in reaction, murmuring. "John?"

He ran his mouth down to her scar, then lifted his head, eyed her as he fondled, fondled. "Moira, about time you awakened, baby. Moira, you are irresistible after we have sex, did you know that? All beautiful, soft, yielding." He slid up to kiss her lips.

She returned the kiss as he moved over her. She touched his face carefully, staring. "John? John, what the hell? What happened to your face? Did I..."

He smiled. "You beat the hell out of me, baby, but it was worth it."

"Hilarious, John! How..." She shoved him. "John! Did you shoot Evan?"

He laughed softly, kissed her. "No. We um, we had a minor disagreement. But it is resolved now. We had a beer and now everything is peachy."

"Peachy? What?" She shoved again, sat. Yanked down her disordered bra and shirt. "John! What the hell did you do?"

He sighed, rolled onto his back. "I told you, Moira. We discussed our divergent views of you and me. Then came to an amiable resolution. Had a beer. Problem solved."

"You, you fought?" she asked in disbelief. "You actually fought? Over, over me?" She was appalled, angered. Even secretly titillated at the thought.

"No. Don't be ridiculous, Moira. You are not an object to be fought over. We fought about you, that's all. We talked. Had a beer. Things are–"

"Peachy now? Look at you!"

"Lorne looks worse," he bragged with a smirk.

"John! What the hell? Couldn't you discuss it like civilized, evolved humans? Oh no, you had to go all alpha, didn't you? All primal? A pair of Neanderthals fighting over a woman!"

"Moira! Don't put it like that! And yes, basically we argued, fought about you. Cleared up some, shall we say misconceptions. That's all. It's how guys discuss things."

"And then had a beer and all is peachy in your world?" she demanded. Incensed. She scowled, turning to see the headboard. "And what is that? Your fucking trophy?" She pointed at her panties displayed.

He grinned. "Yeah. You said I was primal. Alpha. That is my trophy, baby, and I am keeping it. Like I'm keeping you."

"Am I supposed to be impressed by this ridiculous macho egocentric display?"

He considered. "Yes. And aroused. Doesn't it turn you on, baby? Two men fighting about you?"

"No! It doesn't! Damn it, John, how could you even–"

But he sat, kissed her suddenly. Moved her onto her back. "Moira, it had to be done. That way. It's handled. No harm no foul. It's how we settle things of this nature. All right? This won't be a problem again, I promise."

"But you–"

"No." He kissed her. "It's handled. End of story."

She pushed him. Sat as he winced, rolled onto his back, hand at his side. "John? Are you hurt?" She slid up his shirt, fingers gently circling a forming bruise on his side. She leaned to gently run her mouth along his waist to his hip. Her fingers sliding along his thigh.

He moaned, relaxing. Tensing. "That's it, baby. Do me. Do me hard."

She laughed. "Like you could get it up, sweetie, please!" She ran her nails along him, making him shift, groan. "I'm hungry, John! I have a craving for something hard. Big. Long. To slide into my mouth and suck, so hard until I bite off the head."

"Ouch! Damn, baby, that was just cruel," he commented.

She glared. "Good!" She scrambled off the bed, snatching her panties off the headboard. Wiggled into them, into her pants. "Get that fine, fine ass in gear, Sheppard! Fucking Neanderthal!"

He laughed, watched her leave. "Your Neanderthal, baby!" he called after her. Laughed again.

* * *

Moira sat in the cafeteria, eating her dinner. She looked up from time to time expecting John but he had still not appeared. Scowling she drank her water, ate her food in big bites, famished. Her mood vacillating between anger and amusement, between embarrassment and ardor. She looked up to see Evan hovering, tray in his hands, uncertainty on his face. "Evan?" She stared at his swollen black eye. Bruised face. "Are you okay? Please, sit."

Evan shrugged, set down his tray and took the chair. "I'm fine. I forgot how much of a wallop the colonel packs...especially when he is pissed." He waited, bracing himself for inevitable backlash, anger. But Moira resumed eating. "Well? No indignation? No accusations of being no better than cavemen fighting over you like you were a possession to win?"

She smiled. "I already yelled at John. So I'm done. Unless you'd like the speech?"

"No, please!" He held up his hands, smiled. "Moira, you..." He became serious, leaning towards her. Touching her hands on the table. "I am so sorry! I never meant to hurt you. Hearing all of that, well, it...it's none of my business. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. That you weren't being taken advantage of, or duped, or just another...you know."

"I don't know," she said, drawing her hands from his. "What am I, Evan? Oh! I'm just another in the long line of John's women? Is that it?"

"Yeah...I mean no!" he hastily corrected to her glare. "I thought that, but you're not! I know that now. He told me–"

"Told you what, exactly? No, don't answer that! Evan, why do you care anyway? Oh!" she continued before he could reply, "I know! John explained it to me. Tell me, do you still want to have sex with me too?"

"What?" Evan exclaimed, shocked to almost blush. "I...I...Moira, no! I...no!"

"Hmm...that's what John said. Are you calling him a liar now too?" she challenged.

"No! I mean yes! I mean...damn it, I don't care whom you sleep with as long as you are–"

"Satisfied?"

"No! Yes! Moira, I merely wanted to look out for your welfare! To be sure you weren't just another notch on his–"

"Bedpost? Oh! You thought I was a slut!" she realized. Relentless in her sarcasm as the anger, the hurt bled through every word.

"No!"

"To just go to bed with any gorgeous guy whether he loved me or not? Is that it?"

"I thought you were just another one-night stand or a fuck-buddy, all right?" Evan snapped, shock switching to anger at her continued harassment. "If you would shut up for a minute and just listen to me–"

"Oh, I got an earful, believe me!" she retorted. "But don't worry, it's fine. John said things were just peachy now. Peachy!" she declared, voice rising again. "You and John being best buddies now that you've come to an agreement over my sex life!"

"Moira! For God's sake, you don't–"

"No, really, Evan, it's nice to hear that at the very least the guy I'm fucking is concerned, but to have another concerned, wow. What a lucky woman I am, aren't I? Having two men so concerned over my sexual satisfaction! Even though I am not even his type!"

"Damn it, Moira!" Evan declared, voice rising as well. "What the hell is wrong with you? I am trying to–"

"Apologize? Yes, thank you, Evan. All you had to do was to talk to me! To ask me nicely if I was all right, if I was happy with John! But no, you had to attack from this angle, didn't you?"

"What the hell did you expect, Moira? All you seem to do these days is to–"

"Fuck John?" she finished for him, irritating him further as she kept completing his sentences. "Well, fuck you, Evan. You either think I am a slut or a fuck-buddy and I don't know what is worse, I really don't." Her voice fell softly.

"I do not," he retorted, voice lowering as well. "Not now, anyway. He cares for you, Moira. He seems to care for–"

"Don't you think I know that? Do you think I'd be with him if he didn't?" she fiercely whispered. Their gazes locked as if in combat.

"Honestly? I didn't know what to think," he admitted. "He seems to have turned your head around, Moira. It's almost as if you are not the same person anymore. At times. I am sorry, Moira. Truly. I am sorry."

Moira sat back in her chair, sulking. "Just go."

"The colonel said you were back on my team, pending the recovery of your foot. How is your foot, by the way? Moira?"

"Just go," she repeated glumly. "I need to think. I need to eat. I need to get away from the company of men!" She resumed eating, pointedly ignoring him. He sighed, got up. Took his tray to another table. Froze for a moment seeing John watching him with a cool, speculative gaze. Evan shrugged, sat at a table and ate his food.


	12. Chapter 12

Dominance12

John stood, unmoving. Having witnessed most the fierce, heated exchange between Moira and Evan. Hearing their words rise and fall. Strident voices locked in argument. Assessing what he could hear until they lowered their voices. Noted Moira's anger, her sardonic tone. Lashing out with sarcasm, the tension in her body. He felt an answering tension, but not from anger.

"Um, John...maybe you should have, oh, I don't know, intervened?" Rodney asked, standing next to him. He balanced a full tray with both hands.

"No."

"No? Aren't you still seeing her?"

"Yes. Moira handled it fine. The second she couldn't handle it I would have been there, believe me. Let's get a table. I want to let her cool down a little first. I think." A smirk came and went as he considered her mood. The wild sex that could be initiated, enjoyed.

"Okay. Here." Rodney sat with his friend, began to eat. "I've begun a wide scan of the areas you indicated, but as I told you countless times it's a long shot we will even pick up the signal let alone be able to pinpoint his location in the galaxy. There are too many variables and–"

"I know, I know. Maybe I should have let Zelenka handle the–" John began slyly, baiting his friend.

"What? No! I can do this in my sleep! I'll locate that beacon since it has a distinctive energy signature transmitting at a specific emanation that only our systems can...oh, very clever, John. Ha ha. But it's still a remote chance, I'm afraid."

John sighed. "I know. But we have to try. I have to locate Ford and..." He broke off, seeing Rodney's look, as if the scientist was trying to peer into his mind. He stood. "That should be enough time. Later."

Moira sipped her water, touched her dessert. Pushing aside the conflicting emotions. Forcing back a wave of tears. She closed her eyes a moment, collecting herself. Opened them to see John sitting across from her, finishing his dinner. She smiled. "John."

"Moira." He drank some water, licked his lips. "Everything okay?"

"Yes." She bit back a rush of words, emotions, complaints. She unwrapped her dessert. Smiled suddenly. Mischief in her eyes. "Is it hard?"

"What?" he asked, nearly choking on his water. He met her gaze.

"My popsicle." She held up the treat for him to see. "It's been out of the freezer for awhile so I wondered if it was hard, that's all. Too hard, maybe...but it looks a little soft." She began to lick the frozen treat. Tongue running slowly up the sides of the raspberry popsicle.

John's gaze was riveted on her mouth. On her tongue as it ran up the other side of the long popsicle. On her lips as she slid the treat into her mouth. Sucked and swirled, making a soft, soft moaning noise. "Moira..." he warned quietly.

She pulled the popsicle out of her mouth slowly, noisily, sucking all the way. She licked her lips. "Hmm...sweetie, it is a little soft, but mostly hard. So hard, John...hard enough to suck." She licked along the length of the treat. Circled the top with her tongue until he groaned, shifted.

"Fuck," he quietly swore, aroused almost painfully. She plied the treat along her lips, took it in suddenly and sucked. Bit a piece off and chewed. Swallowed. He visibly winced. "Ouch. Damn, baby, if you're in a bad mood I'd rather not risk my–"

"Popsicle?" she asked. "I'm just eating a popsicle, sweetie. It's nothing to do with you. Oh, do you want to discuss it with Evan first? How I eat a popsicle? Or can you manage to watch me all on your own?"

"Hilarious, Moira," he scolded gruffly.

"What? You being best buddies and all, I'm sure you'd love to share my popsicle skills, wouldn't you, sweetie?" She licked along the sides again. "I had to bite part of it, John, because it was too big to fit all of the way inside my mouth. And I am sucking it really, really hard too."

He shifted, gaze narrowing. "Fuck it, Moira, cut it out now."

"What's your problem, John? I am just eating a popsicle. You know what the lovely thing about a popsicle is?" she asked, freeing it to wave at him. It dribbled on the table. Bright spots of raspberry. Wet from her mouth, melting slowly.

"What?" he asked gruffly, helpless to resist.

She slid it into her mouth again. Swirled it. Sucked. Drew it out slowly. Bit off another piece. "As hard as it is it goes down eventually. One way or another. Unlike your fucking cock!"

"Whoa, whoa," he shifted, her sudden anger hitting him unexpectedly. "Moira?"

She stood. Glaring at him. "Oh, do you need to discuss that with Evan first, sweetie?"

"Moira!" Anger in his voice now. Part of him wanted to lunge across the table at her, pull her onto it and taste her, take her. Part of him wanted to wait, to enjoy the foreplay, although now he wondered if this was foreplay. He couldn't quite gauge her mood and that bothered the hell out of him.

"So, John...is it hard? You never answered my question."

"And I won't, Moira, not with you in this mood," he replied. "Why don't you sit that pert little ass down and finish your popsicle...before you start on mine," he added with a smile. Which disappeared as she slammed the frozen treat right in the middle of his burger.

"Finish it yourself, flyboy! I have better things to do then to get you off!" She stalked out of the cafeteria.

John turned in his chair to watch her. Angered, amused, aroused. Puzzled and intrigued all at once. He looked back at the frozen treat melting into his dinner. Shook his head.

* * *

Moira was pacing in her room. Alternately furious, amused. She sighed, unable to work, unable to think of anything but John. Wanting him. Feeling she shouldn't want him. Part of her wanting to smack him, hit him, yell at him. The other part wanting to melt into him, to yield to his every desire, his every demand. Even make a few of her own.

She whirled as the door opened. As John sauntered into her room as if it was his. Before she could protest or deny he grabbed her, pulled her into his arms. His mouth latching onto hers in a deep, deep kiss. Devouring as his tongue thrust, teased. As his hands slid down to grab her rear and to squeeze, squeeze. Shoving her into him. "Door?" she managed to gasp.

"Wha...shit." He waved it closed, stumbling back towards it, pulling her along with him. Spun them suddenly so she was up against the door. He pulled the ponytail holder out of her hair, kissing her again, barely letting her up for air as he probed, possessed. "Moira," he breathed hotly into her ear, "you nearly fucking killed me with that popsicle!"

"Good to know, John," she said, circling his ear, kissing. Nibbling to make him groan. Squirming as he pinned her against the door, erection pressing eagerly on her. "Are you going to fuck me through our clothes?"

"Hell yes," he snapped. "Full throttle, baby."

"Yes, oh yes, John," she breathlessly agreed, swept by the tidal wave of love, lust, desire. Need as her body reacted vividly to his. "Don't you worry, sweetie, Maggie is not in her room so you can make the whole floor rock this time."

"Good to know, baby," he said with a grin. He freed her, catching his breath. "Clothes." He undid his belt, yanking it free. Undid his pants.

Moira caught his hands there. Stopping him. Smiled. Moved to her knees. "Is it hard, John? Hard enough for deployment?" she teased. Fingers lightly running along the obvious arousal jutting in his shorts.

"You tell me, baby," he replied, voice husky. Her touches sending shivers along his skin. He licked his lips. Anticipating.

"I just love your undies, sweetie," she teased, yanking down his pants to reveal his shorts. The material was blue and peach stripes.

"You're going to love what's in them even more, baby," he replied, tensing. Her fingers running along the hard length of him now. Sliding under to tickle his balls. He shifted his stance. "Fuck!"

"Language, colonel, we haven't even reached that part yet!"

"Sorry, baby." He groaned, shifting his stance again as she ran her fingers along him once more. Kissed along his bare thigh, up, up, closing in on what he most desired, most wanted. His hands clenched on her shoulders, as if to guide her but she stood. Caught his mouth with hers again.

He undid her pants, never breaking stride, kiss after kiss until he had the material slithering to her feet. The panties followed quickly. He yanked down his shorts. She stepped out of her fallen clothes, nearly tripping in her haste. Her hands running up his chest to his shoulders. She gasped as he suddenly hefted her up, into the door. Thrust eagerly into her with a harsh groan.

Moira whimpered, moaned with each thrust, each abrupt slam against the door. John's grunts in perfect time to his movements. She squirmed, feet sliding on the floor, rear hitting the door over and over. The growing pleasure a vivid rush, pulsating instead of circling now as he adjusted her, adjusted his angle. "John, John, don't fuck me through the door!" she breathlessly warned, trying to push at his shoulders.

John smiled, but ignored her, too caught up in the relief just hovering out of reach. Too fixated on the throbbing rhythms, the almost painful need to go faster, faster. He strained, groaned as the sensations rushed, drowned him, dominated him as he took her quickly, roughly, coming before she did and not caring at that particular moment. "Fuck! Oh fuck that is sweet!" he growled against her skin. "That will teach you to eat a popsicle."

Moira softly laughed, feeling him. The spasms of release, pleasure. His need, his desire flooding into her, giving her some pleasure but not enough, not nearly enough as it was already ending. She was still being bumped against the door, riding the last waves of passion as he emptied himself into her.

When a knock sounded on the other side of the door.

Moira gasped, froze. Tightened on him to make John softly groan, the expression on his face caught between ecstasy and discomfort. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders.

"Moira? Moira, are you in there?"

Moira pressed her lips together to stifle the moan as John tensed, thrust deeply into her with what little he had left. He met her gaze, brilliant green eyes smouldering with passion, with anger now at the interruption. At the recognized voice on the other side of the door. She tried to move but he would not let her go, kept her pressed there, locked in their intimacy. Her lips parted to speak. "I–"

"I'm in there so she's fine!"

"John!" Moira flared, shoving. Flustered she scrambled as he at last slid out of her, a self-assured smirk on his handsome face. "You son of a–"

"Sorry, sir. Goodnight," Evan stated, nearly as flustered as Moira. He stared at the door a moment, then quickly headed down the hall.

John grinned, catching her before she could move away from him. "What?" He kissed her, abruptly swung her up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

"John!" she protested, but the laugh bubbling inside her came out as he unceremoniously dumped her onto the bed. Followed after her.

"What?" he repeated, laughing as well. "I'm not through with you yet, sweetheart. My baby always comes. Always." He pulled off his shirt, began to remove hers.

She scrambled up the bed, out of her shirt, her bra as his nimble fingers nearly tore them from her. "John!" she said again, then slyly added, "can you get it up, colonel? How was your solo flight?"

"Hilarious, Moira. Don't you worry, baby, I can get it up, or rather you can. In five. Maybe six," he considered. "That will teach you to eat a popsicle," he repeated.

"Hmm...at least the popsicle stayed hard until the end."

"Moira!" he protested, but she laughed, laughed heartily as he grinned, shoving himself onto her.

"Make it seven, damn it!" he complained as the hilarity somewhat dissipated the sexual urgency.

Moira pushed so he was beneath her. She slid along his body, kissing. "Hmm...better make it eight, sweetie, from what I'm feeling. Ow!"

He had slapped her rear. "Enough! Give a guy a break, would you? Even the sex guy needs a slight moment to rest for the next round."

"Oh. Sorry, sweetie." She kissed him. Soft, gentle kisses as she savored full lips, sucked at his lower lip. Circled his ear and nibbled as his hands slid along her skin, stroking. As her long hair fell across them like a silky curtain. "Hmm...oh John." She slid off him, staring at him. "Sex with you is just so...John, will you be..."

"Be? I told you, at least eight. Maybe nine, although if you were suck me off it could be five."

"Shut up! I didn't mean that! I need you to promise me...look, sex like this, it doesn't come along very often, at least not for me," she said seriously.

"Not for me either, baby...but it does with the both of us. I can promise you that, Moira. And don't you worry, I'll get you off in a few."

"I know. That's why I need you to promise me. That when, when we break up you will still be my fuck-buddy. Since Evan thought that's all I was anyway. You were right, John, no other man could ever bring me the way you do. I don't mean to stoke your male ego because it certainly doesn't need it, but it is the truth. I've never been with a man like you. I've never had so many intense orgasms in my life! I normally wouldn't do casual sex but for you I'd make an exception. I just can't...can't give this up...all the way...though we should, I know...we...so will you?"

John was staring at her, not certain if she was teasing or serious, although her expression was solemn. Her voice sincere. "Your fuck-buddy?" he finally asked. His euphoria temporarily halted. He sat. Still. Tense.

Moira wondered at his reaction. "Yes, sweetie. It's a simple question. One I'm sure you've been asked many times, right? I just assumed you would agree, what with the offer of continued sex and all. John? You don't want to be my fuck-buddy?"

"No." One word. Terse.

She sat, touched his arm. "No? I don't understand."

"We're not breaking up, Moira. At least not in the foreseeable future. How the hell could he even say that to you? Even suggest such a thing?"

"John," she tried to temporize his rising anger.

"To suggest that you were nothing more than that! To say that to you! Didn't that piss you off? Of course it did! Shit! It pisses me off! Again! Like I'd ever treat you like that! Like I'd ever treat your love for me so flippantly! I want you, Moira! I want your love, not just the sex. I love you, damn it! I even told him so!"

"John?" Moira softened at his declarations, but his anger puzzled her. She leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. It was just a, a...a joke," she decided. "Why are you so upset over–"

"Aren't you?" he challenged, meeting her gaze.

"Well, yes, I was. I am. I mean, he knows better now." She kissed him, moved him onto his back. Slid her body on top of his. "My oh my, sweetie, who knew you were so very sensitive over this? I thought you and Evan were best buddies now, bonding over a beer over this. I'm sorry, John. I love you. I don't want to break up with you. I just–"

"What? Wanted to piss me off? Good job, baby. As for being best buddies we certainly are not. I'll smack the fucking crap out of him for calling you that."

"No! You won't." She kissed him, caressed his sore jaw. His chest. Waist. Ran her hand down lower, lower. "How can I make it all better, sweetie? How can I restore your good mood?"

"That's a start," he conceded grumpily.

She smiled. Kissing his throat. "Sorry, sweetie. I shouldn't tease you about your cock," she soothed, fingers running up and down it now. "But you like me to tease it, don't you? What? No deployment yet, colonel? Not even a little hard? Stiff? Colonel, colonel, you are failing in your perimeter check. I guess even the sex guy can't always, always deploy on command, can he? You can take the safety off now, colonel. I guess instead of a P90 you're carrying what? A nine millimeter, or something smaller?"

He scowled. "Moira! What the hell is this? Is it torture John Sheppard day?"

She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, sweetie. I love John Sheppard." She kissed him. "It's torture John's cock day." She ran her nails along him.

"Ow! What the fuck?" he wondered.

"That is if I could even find it." She laughed again. Gentled her hold.

"Your fucking hilarity isn't helping, baby. You know, if you were to take that mouth of yours and suck John's cock you'd be quite impressed. When is that day again?"

"John! I'd rather have a popsicle. At least it is hard, and long...and so suckable."

"What am I now, your sex toy?" he asked. "Not that I'm complaining."

"You can be my sex toy if you'll also be my fuck-buddy." She stared at his expression of anger. The loss of merriment. "Oh come on! That really upset you? Enough to make you stand down?"

He sat, pushing her gently off him. Removed her hand from his cock. As she sat he touched her rosy cheek, her hair. Moira stared, knew he was serious because his gaze remained locked with hers. Did not wander down to her breasts. "Moira, I don't want to ever hear that phrase from your lips again. Okay? I'm serious, honey. I won't tolerate anyone referring to you in that way, not even you."

She was startled by his intense gravity. "O...okay, John," she stammered, thrown by his demeanor. "I'm sorry. I was just, just teasing. Didn't you, didn't you like the teasing about, about your–"

"Cock?" he finished for her. "I loved it, Moira. I love everything you do, everything you say. Just don't say that phrase," he held up an admonishing finger. "Ever. All right?"

She nodded. "Okay, John." Bewildered by his stern manner she could only wonder at the nerve she had inadvertently hit.

"I love you, Moira. I won't hear you belittled like that, even in jest." He kissed her, lips gentle. Mouth caressing, wooing. He smiled, gaze wandering at last along her body. "Now...you still need to get off, right? Hmm...I think we need something special...but not now."

"John? You..."

He laid back, drew her onto him. Kissed her brow. "Ssh. I'm beat. I'll get you off, but not right now, baby. I'm not in the mood. And I want this to be special. Worth waiting for. You're confined to base for a few, and I'm taking a few days off...so...let me sleep on it."

"On what? John?" But he had closed his eyes, hold relaxing as he drifted into sleep.

She sighed. "Whatever, sweetie. Whatever."


End file.
